


Kind of Like Beetlejuice

by brif87



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-06
Updated: 2013-09-12
Packaged: 2017-12-22 14:14:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 34,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/914169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brif87/pseuds/brif87
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Apparently Miss Blake did all her monologuing with Lydia at school, because she's rushing over to meet him in her <strong>impossiblyfast</strong>, <strong>toofast</strong> way. About halfway across the warehouse she flickers, and there's so many scars and so much burned skin and Isaac wishes he'd get the chance to tell Derek to <em>friggin raise your standards, man</em>. And that thing is still coming at him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Teen Wolf fanfic, and it doesn't have a beta to boot, so, apologies if there are any errors. I'll be trying to comb them out. Comments are always loved and appreciated. Nothing belongs to me of course, except for my overwhelming desire to shower kisses on half of the characters in the show. This includes spoilers through S03E09 "The Girl Who Knew Too Much". Diverges from canon after of course. Thanks for reading! May include bits and pieces of the remaining episodes of S3A, depending on what fits in with the story and what doesn't.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apparently Miss Blake did all her monologuing with Lydia at school, because she's rushing over to meet him in her **impossiblyfast** , **toofast** way. About halfway across the warehouse she flickers, and there's so many scars and so much burned skin and Isaac wishes he'd get the chance to tell Derek to _friggin raise your standards, man_. And that thing is still coming at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do love Isaac. That is all. Spoilers up until S03E09 for this chapter.

### Chapter One - The Love You Don't Recover From

##### (Or: I'm failing English because my teacher won't stop killing people)

  


It's always been a bit of a joke between them all. _Dog, puppy, certain sourwolves who will remain unnamed._ It's always been fondly meant and playfully (Or in Stiles' case, sarcastically) spoken. But nothing is fond or playful right now, Isaac thinks. They're in an abandoned warehouse, as if those were ever in short supply. With an ironic huff, Isaac reflects on exactly who they are.

Lydia, the banshee - which, what? When was that a thing? Though, it certainly explains the scream and the sort-of-pounding headache he's had for hours now. But whatever - Lydia had used her _mojo_ (bansheeness? bansheebilities?) to narrow the search.

The search for Sheriff Stilinski. Sheriff Stilinski who just saw his very first werewolf tonight. Sheriff Stilinski who had apparently had a knife thrown at him. Sheriff Stilinski who had been kidnapped by....Derek's girlfriend? A girlfriend in a relationship that no one had known about until tonight. Isaac thinks that in between the figurative death and rebirth of Derek and the literal death and not-rebirth of Boyd (something Isaac will dwell on later, he finds himself thinking. _Later._ ) communication has gotten so jumbled, so tough. And it was never even that fantastic to begin with, so, there's that too.

But there was a topic, and Isaac was quickly getting off of it. Lydia had narrowed the search to this random-seeming warehouse, and had called Allison who Isaac had been with on Scott's orders. (Another tidbit filed under Deserving Later Brooding.) Isaac had been trying to see what Scott saw in her all day. Was it the smell of her hair? The touch of her hand? He'd been researching these things the entire day, and he had to say. Allison was attractive, like, really attractive. _Like really._ But also, arrows. Knives. More arrows. 

The list of things flung at him by said Allison is not short, and does not include nearly as many smiles and well-wishes. It's not his fault if he gets a bad case of the traumatized flinches **(working on it!)** from time to time whenever she gets a little too snappy. A little too unpredictable. Belatedly, Isaac realizes that he's gotten off topic again.

Bemusedly, he thinks that if he were a ship, he'd be rudderless right about now. There is a noise in front of them suddenly. A sibilant hiss, a suppressed growl. Anxiously, Isaac thinks, if he was a ship right about now. That'd probably be the iceberg right there. 

Because there's his Alpha's girlfriend, his English teacher, the lady who only days ago he was holding protectively in his arms while Boyd died. _Later, he reminds himself._ Most importantly though, and this is the one he can't let himself forget; there is the darach, the druid that's been kidnapping and killing so many **(everyone, it feels like)**. 

A pained whimper behind the woman has Isaac noticing that the Sheriff is still alive, _and oh god, thank you. Thank god it's not another person. Another empty hole. A gaping wound, more like._ But relief is short-lived. 

"The second time in one night, Lydia? Do you really want to die that badly?" Miss Blake - the darach - Isaac corrects himself, says. But Lydia is tough as nails, and if Isaac is being honest, even tougher given the fact that he and Allison are flanking her.

"We're just here for the Sheriff." It's not Lydia who speaks up then, but Allison, and she has a fire in her eyes that could burn down the world around them. Isaac thinks that if Scott were here right now, the word he'd choose for Allison would be atonement. Because if there's one thing that's defined Allison as of late, it's her desire to make amends, to repair old injuries. Saving Sheriff Stilinski seems win-win in that regard. 

"He's a bit preoccupied at the moment." Miss Blake all but sneers. And then she's moving. _Fast. How'd she get so fast?_ Isaac has time to think right before she slams into all three of them. She's rearing back for a spectacular looking punch, but Isaac's already moving, has been since she rushed at them. He pushes Lydia roughly, because manhandling a banshee seems easier than strong-arming a darach. 

The girl goes flying, right into Allison, the both of them ending sprawled across the floor, but _more importantly_ , out of the way. Allison squeaks - literally squeaks - in frustration, but Isaac has no time for awkwardly timed mid-battle snickers and side steps the fist aimed at his face. Only not fast enough.

A knuckle grazes the left side of his head and Isaac has no room left to wonder over Miss Blake's speed, because - when did she get _so strong?_ Isaac is pretty sure he just got his ass handed to him. By a single knuckle. 

He stumbles backwards, barely dodging a follow up punch. Unfortunately for him, the dodged punch distracted him from the kick. A kick that was _just_ this side of Sparta. Isaac sincerely hopes there are not two hundred and ninety-nine more Miss Blakes somewhere out there. And the reference is so amusing to him he nearly chuckles. But then there's the wall across the warehouse, and his back rushes to meet it like it was the first present on Christmas morning. 

He's coughing, and something inside of him is not right, not even close to being right. Someone shouts his name. Probably Allison, he thinks, because she can't very well pay her debts to Isaac if he's been smashed to bits, now can she? What an awkward time to still be this bitter, he thinks. 

Apparently Miss Blake did all her monologuing with Lydia at school, because she's rushing over to meet him in her **impossiblyfast** , **toofast** way. About halfway across the warehouse she flickers, and there's so many scars and so much burned skin and Isaac wishes he'd get the chance to tell Derek to _friggin raise your standards, man_. And that thing is still coming at him. 

Isaac snarls, shifts, and staggers to his feet because like Klingons, Dothraki, and Bruce Willis, he refuses to meet death sitting down. Forces himself to meet it head on. That doesn't seem to bother Derek's girlfriend that much, judging from the way the tightened skin around her almost-kind-of-lips tightens even more into a triumphant smirk. 

She's nearly to him, arm raised and fingers stretched wide as if she was going to claw the skin right off of his face, and maybe she was, when he launches himself at her. He closes the remaining distance himself, his own fist reared back to punch. But suddenly where there was only one blur, Dark-Druid-Slash-English-Teacher looking, there are now two more.

One barrels into Miss Blake, all dark hair and red eyes, and Isaac has a second to think, _young love_ , before the second blur grabs him and throws them both out of the way of the Derek-Darach-Rage-Ball. For one beautiful, terrible moment, Isaac entertains the thought that it is Scott that has slammed into him, but that's silly because the smell is all _smoke and magic and crazy and Peter_. 

Vaguely disappointed, Isaac nonetheless scolds himself for wishing that it was Scott that was the one to slam him out of the way, to be the one that puts himself in the line of danger. But it's the distinct, tormented - always tormented - howl that rips itself free from his Alpha's throat that has Isaac distracted from his conflicted thoughts, mesmerized by the pain in it, the betrayal. 

Derek slams Miss Blake into the wall and _she laughs_ , chilling Isaac to the bone. He stumbles back because, Lydia. Allison. Lydia is helping the now-conscious Sheriff to his feet, and Allison is no where to be seen. Miss Blake shoves Derek off of her, her pretty face now back in place.

"Baby, you're hurting me." she sneers at him. Derek, for all of the torment that Isaac knows is there, just stands, still snarling, claws still at the ready, and Isaac is proud. For all of Derek's Derekness, Isaac knows he will not let another psychotic bitch bring destruction to his pack, even if it's already in tatters. 

Whatever Derek's response would have been will never be known, because with three rapid fire **thwunks** , there are arrows suddenly embedding themselves in Miss Blake's chest as if they grew there. And there's Allison. Always with the high ground, that girl. There's something curiously like fondness for her uncurling inside of Isaac suddenly, even if it does have to share a space with all the bitter. 

But Miss Blake, continuing on her mission to freak the shit out of all people everywhere simply plucks two of the three arrows out and throws them carelessly. Only it isn't as careless as she made it seem, and she must have had a lot more strength behind those throws than it looked like. One embeds itself immediately in Derek's gut, and the other only barely misses Allison, the fraction of a second longer it takes to get to her giving her enough of an opening to dodge behind a crate. 

Isaac tenses at a sound behind him, looking back to see the Sheriff loading a gun, but if Miss Blake can do that with arrows, he doesn't want to see what she can do with bullets, and the Sheriff _so doesn't_ need to be drawing attention to himself. So Isaac takes a wobbly step forward, and instead of stopping him like Scott would have, Peter surges forward, easily outpacing Isaac and forcing the younger wolf to stumble forward quickly in an effort to keep up. 

They meet Miss Blake at the same time and grab her by the arms, hauling her back and slamming her against the wall. Derek is suddenly up and there, the arrow no longer jutting out of his stomach. He has his hands around her neck but they aren't choking, they aren't killing, and Isaac just wants him to _hurry up_ because _they_ aren't a pack of Alphas, and holding crazed, maniacal English teachers against walls is not easy. 

"I don't know what you are. But I'm going to kill you." Derek snarls, red eyes aglow. And boy is the anger visible in them. Miss Blake simply cackles, and Isaac is so tired of her finding everything so. Damn. Funny. 

He's tired of people dying. He's tired of the masquerade of monsters that moonlight as normal people. He's tired of being afraid. He's tired of being angry. He's tired of being tired. That most of all. 

So much of this pain burrows into him and fuels his rage, the first emotion he had after the bite, the brightest of them all, still. He and Erica thought it made them badasses, to be so angry. Used to talk about being able to harness it and let it explode out of them. They liked to pretend they were weapons of controlled chaos instead of scared and scarred kids. Just the thought of Erica sends him over the edge, mingles with the fresh loss of Boyd and the taste shoves itself down his throat. He'd gag if he wasn't so _fucking angry_. And so he loses control, because really, what else is there to do? 

Scott would have an alternative, he knows, but Scott isn't here and it's been a long time since Isaac has ever considered that a good thing, but his wolf wants this so bad. Because when you are given pain, you give it right back. Because no matter how hopeless, you scream and you punch and you try to claw that damn freezer door open. You don't let the darkness choke you. Or at least, you try not to.

So Isaac bites the hell out of Miss Blake's neck, and tries to rip out her throat, tries to spit all of his pain into the wound he makes. Because fuck this bitch. Seriously. And for a second, it works.

Derek honest-to-god flinches, and Peter opens his mouth before he snaps it shut, his expression carefully schooled. And Miss Blake actually screams. But then she flickers, and gone is the pretty lady, and back is the monstrously burned and scarred sack of meat and bone that she really is. 

It's such a jarring transformation, especially so close, that for one second Derek drops his hands, that Peter loosens his grip. Isaac is well beyond coherent thought at this point, and so he still goes to town, but now Miss Blake's hand is winding itself into his hair, and she rips him off of her. The third arrow that had not a moment ago been resting in Miss Blake's chest is now sticking out of Isaac's shoulder. 

He bites back a whimper at that and he stumbles back into Derek, rough hands steadying him, only to tighten when his Alpha feels the Darach's attack before it happens. Peter, the nimble bastard, dances out of Miss Blake's reach but he's not her target right now. She lunges at Derek and Isaac but Derek has already tensed and thrown himself and his beta backwards to avoid her.

Isaac catches her eyes as he and Derek tumble and she stalks after them. They're crazed, insane, almost lacking sentience. It's terrifying and Isaac shudders even as he tucks himself up as much as possible so he can roll up and away as soon as he touches the ground.

The ground comes fast and Isaac and Derek both roll onto it, but Isaac's shoulder is searing. The arrow has snapped in half and his arm jerks and his roll becomes less coordinated, less purposeful. He stumbles up, ripping the rest of the arrow out of his body at the exact moment the Darach reaches him, murderously vengeful for the very insult of Isaac's wound upon her. He fights the urge to squeeze his eyes closed and instead stares blankly at Miss Blake, almost welcoming. 

Shots ring out, and Isaac startles as his desire to survive returns and he backpedals, wheeling away from the monster in front of him. Isaac thinks Sheriff Stilinski has finally gotten a clean shot. Isaac thinks the man is as stubborn as his son. 

But there are so many _bangs_ and so many _pops_ and Allison and Chris and the Sheriff are all suddenly pumping Miss Blake full of so many bullets. Looking at Chris, Isaac sees Scott and Stiles standing behind him and he realizes where they've been this entire time and he grins. He looks to Chris' right and has half a second to be mildly aroused by the sight of Allison shooting bullet after bullet into Miss Blake, and he wonders if maybe today has been too much. 

He wonders if his lo- _uhhh_ \- his like of Scott, he quickly corrects himself, is leading him to Single White Female the boy. He wonders if he really wants to be Scott, wonders if he's really that fucked up in the head. 

But there's Scott and Stiles suddenly running up next to him, and they're dragging him and Derek backwards. 

"It's okay," Scott says, more to himself than anyone else. "It's okay." he repeats. Isaac's heart stutters and he can't help but think that it's not. But he wishes it was. Wishes he could believe Scott, but barely anything is okay lately.

Instead of saying these things, he compromises for nodding vacantly at Scott's words. "Yeah." he says. He feels the sting of emptiness in the word, but Scott doesn't. Instead, the other boy smiles slightly, more a twitch of his lips than anything else. And whatever confused sentiment Isaac has towards Allison pales in comparison to the deep well of emotion that Scott creates in Isaac, he realizes. 

He's slightly frustrated with how he always seems to be the damsel, but he's more than slightly pleased with the fact that Scott has his hands wrapped around him, tugging him back, pulling him away from danger. 

And so if Isaac discreetly leans his head against Scott's chest and blames it on exhaustion and the momentary physical weakness from a fight hard fought and nearly lost, well, that's his business.

But the fight isn't over yet, and suddenly Scott is sitting him next to Lydia before moving back towards Allison and her father. Stiles and Derek hustle after him to flank the Sheriff with only a minimal amount of bitching on Stiles' part for Derek to just _rest for one friggin second_. 

Isaac stands but he is wobbly and uncentered, he swallowed some of Miss Blake's blood and it's not exactly settling right. His stomach is twitching and he unexpectedly finds himself on his knees and he's retching, and he's throwing up, and - mistletoe? What?

The shooting has stopped, and Miss Blake is a bleeding heap on the floor. Scott and Stiles and the Sheriff (with a maximum amount of bitching on Stiles' part for him to _stay back, dad_ ) are walking cautiously towards her body.

"Where's Peter?" Lydia asks suddenly, her tone soft and frightened, but somehow still the tiniest bit derisive. And that's a good point. Peter is no where to be seen. Isaac thinks he is such a shady creeper sometimes. But Isaac kind of likes him as much as he is frightened by him. Not that he'd ever bring it up to anyone, because in this group, it's sort of like being a fan of the bogeyman. Granted, in a lot of ways, Peter kind of is the bogeyman. 

Allison has just made it back to Lydia and Isaac when Lydia's eyes seem to lose focus, and Isaac almost feels it before he hears it, and she's screaming, and she's screaming even louder. Isaac is on his hands and knees, howling in tandem with her, and Allison is crouched in similar pain, though without the howl. Derek whips around and without a second more of hesitation is by their side, a grimace on his face from the piercing octave of Lydia's voice.

The rest of their group turns away from Miss Blake for just the slightest of seconds, but that's all she needs. Isaac, crouched and in pain as he is, is the first to notice her lips are moving. The wind, previously nonexistent inside of the boarded up warehouse, picks up. His howl cuts off, strangled, the pungent scent of his fear filling the room. 

Scott winces, the first - of course he is - to decipher the change in Isaac. He's turning back towards Miss Blake but it's in slow motion, it's much too late, Isaac thinks. Bullet-ridden Miss Blake rises from the ground, chanting gutturally. 

"Who needs a gun?" she asks nonchalantly - almost innocently - almost. Her chanting, abruptly cut off, begins anew and Peter is dashing out of the shadows, grabbing the Stilinskis and shoving them behind a bit of debris. Scott looks back, his eyes snapping to Isaac. To Allison (But to him first, Isaac thinks, smug if he'd had the ability to be). Allison is screaming for her father, Scott's name a close second on her lips, but the time for mysterious looks and heart wrenching pleas are over, and Miss Blake is exploding in a shower of bullets.

Scott drapes himself over Mr. Argent - of course he would - Isaac thinks, his emotions muted as he twirls around to do the same for Allison. Derek reaches out to do likewise for Lydia when she pushes him back and the alpha falls to the ground surprised, but also very much _physically moved_ by the strength behind Lydia's push. Isaac stutters to a halt, Allison half hidden behind him. It's only then that he realizes that Lydia is chanting, and Miss Blake hasn't stopped.

They're getting louder, it's a duel, he realizes. The bullets though, _where are the bullets?_ Scott and Allison's dad are on the ground, Isaac wants to rush to them, but he can hear their heart beats, strong and steady, and whatever wounds they have, there is nothing mortal, nothing they can't handle. Allison moves to run to them, her only-human senses seeing nothing but two wounded, bloody, unmoving bodies. Isaac wraps a hand around her wrist, though, his eyes still focused on Miss Blake. His head shakes, ever so slightly, and - amazingly - Allison stills at his request. 

A portal of darkness (and isn't that a descriptor Isaac never thought he'd need) unfurls from beside Miss Blake, and the darkness unfolds into a massive canine. Not a dog. Not a wolf. _Definitely_ not a puppy. Huge, pitiless red eyes glare at them, and Miss Blake screeches something in a language that sounds like shards of glass to Isaac's ears. But the dog-wolf-monster is galloping at them.

Miss Blake crows with delight, "Die! Die! Die! I am done with you! You will no longer stand in my way. You may be a Wailing Woman, but I am the Darach, and I command you to die!" and Stiles, always too smart for his own good, whispers from across the warehouse.

"The Black Dog of York."

But that doesn't really mean much to Isaac. What he sees is this dog explode into darkness and red embers. He sees it fly at them like a sandstorm and he sees the fire in the center of the blackness, quite distinctly in the shape of a huge dog. He sees its fire reflected in Lydia's eyes. He pulls Allison into him, one last ditch effort at _protecting_. 

Derek stands frighteningly still beside him, his face stricken as he sees fire and death heading towards him. Isaac sees this black maelstrom and the fiery dog within it take in all of them as it rushes forward. It gazes - and don't ask Isaac how he knows this, he just feels it - at him and knows his darkest secrets and shames, but Isaac's entire life is composed dark shame and he stands steady. 

It shifts to Allison and she quivers, almost buckling at the knee, but her Argent resolve doesn't fully falter. It moves to Derek, but there is no more pain there, nothing extra that Derek doesn't already feel constantly every day. Isaac has one more feeling of awed pride for his Alpha, but then the monster looks Lydia in the eyes as it rolls into them.

As the black dog-cloud-monster-thing overtakes them, Isaac can't help but feel that it blinks. Maybe quizzically, but more like it was surprised, and maybe a little curious.

The blackness swirls around them and there are screams, and pain and fear, but Isaac's always been good at getting around in choking darkness, and so he latches onto Derek while still holding onto Allison. He pulls them to where he last saw Lydia. He finds her, stiff and unnaturally rigid, but he cleaves to her side and pulls them all into a sort of impromptu about-to-die-group-hug. And then spikes are being driven into his skull, or at least that's how it feels.

Pain is blanketing them now more than darkness and one by one they sink to the ground. Isaac feels his life ebbing, and he moans. _What a sad fucking life I've lived_ , he thinks he says.

And he loses consciousness, but as he does, he hears a girl's voice. It's not Allison's silken steel, or Lydia's dignified airs. It's equal parts biting cold and sizzling heat. It's the sort of decadent sarcasm that only one person has ever mastered, in Isaac's opinion.

"Pity Party much?." Erica says. She's still sort of a bitch, Isaac thinks hazily. Death hasn't seemed to have changed that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apparently M. Night Shamylan has the rights to her life, and if that isn't just - just purely unacceptable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well daaannngggggg, S03E10 was pretty darn good! I'm not sure if I'm going to incorporate much of it here though, as I'd like to keep this fic pretty darach-centered (I'm also a big fan of Mary Sue darach, because weak-feeble-surprise-blamo darach confuses me and makes me forget about her epic monologuing at the school in front of Lydia, Scott, and the Sheriff), and leave the Alpha pack out as much as possible. That being said, I've got a good couple tidbits I'd like to mix and tweak into this story. I decided to post this chapter early, because, well, I really like writing Lydia. I think Lydia and Peter are just top notch together, and I think that if the show spun off and it was just Peter and Lydia and Jackson trotting around London, well I'd be on board in a second. And just, _Ohhh Peter_. You sexy sexy man. Anyway! Without further ado!

### Chapter Two - That Scream That Chills To The Bone 

##### (Or: Yes, I know I'm magnificent, you're welcome.) 

It wasn't often that Lydia presented anything less than the absolute sterling facade of utmost poise. Excepting, of course, for when she screams like it's a cheesy horror movie and finds dead bodies like it's a slasher flick. 

Apparently M. Night Shamylan has the rights to her life, and if that isn't just - just purely unacceptable. 

Lydia refuses to allow these unfortunately consistent things to rule her life, this being said. So when she wakes up, sprawled on the concrete floor of an abandoned warehouse, she dusts herself off and stands up, her posture the picture of perfection. 

"Where is our English teacher?" Lydia asks aloud to absolutely no one, because, priorities. 

"She sped off. I think whatever power she has isn't limitless. She seemed pretty out of it. I mean. As out of it as a bird-murdering, people-sacrificing, Derek-banging psycho can be - which - pretty _far out_."

This is all Stiles of course, and Lydia's fingers itch with the desire to pinch her nose in frustration. But the darach is gone, and that's good news. 

Stiles and his father are stooped over Scott and Chris Argent, but they seem fairly calm and not-at-all running around in a state of panic. This is a relief, considering the bullet bomb that the darach became. 

Glancing over those surrounding her, Lydia finds it somewhat unsettling that she is the first to wake. Derek is curled in on himself, looking so utterly not-Alpha that it startles her momentarily. Isaac is sprawled out across Allison like he's still protecting her, both their faces pinched and pained. That leads Lydia to her next thought. 

Isaac Lahey. She'd never particularly given him a second glance, a second thought, a second second, to be honest, but after the events of tonight, Lydia must admit to herself that she is beginning to somewhat reconsider that opinion. While she has a scrape on her elbow from when he pushed her into Allison, he looks a lot worse. _Is_ , in fact, a lot worse. And that's with werewolf healing. 

"You look...uncharacteristically unkempt." a voice to the right of her says. She sighs, the sound rattling from her lungs in a long and suffering manner. Her eyes shift to give a sideways glance to the figure beside her and she is extremely unsurprised to find that it is Peter Hale. 

There is something off about him, however. A gleam in his eye, or the manner in which he's standing. Lydia can't seem to put her finger on it, can't quite seem to figure it out. 

"Peter-" she begins, entirely set upon verbally eviscerating him. He has always made her seem insecure, has always reminded her of the part of herself that was out of her control and easily manipulated merely by being alive. 

"Yes?" Peter answers. From her left, where he's currently standing with Stiles. Lydia's eyes blink once. Long, slow, uncomprehending. She peers to her right, taking in Peter. She peers to her left, taking in Peter. Or Other Peter. Or - which Peter is Other Peter? But now that she notices the fact that there are two, yes, two Peters, it's easy to ascertain the differences. 

One Peter is, well, positively scraggly. His face is unshaven, the glint in his eye....not less manic, but distinctly less refined. There is a certain degree of viciousness in the eyes of Right Peter, certainly much more than can be seen upon Left Peter's face. Lydia recalls the Peter from just before he was resurrected. Right Peter is very much a reminder of that. 

Left Peter has regrown a small manner of compassion in his second life. Or hides it better. Probably that, she thinks. 

The question - the crux of the issue for Lydia is this. Does she ignore a Peter in favor of the other Peter? And which Peter should be ignored? Surely only one can be seen by other people, else they would all be having similar reactions right now. 

The question remains, however, does she ignore this as has been her modus operandi with the supernatural up until now? Or does she build off of her newfound confidence in her abilities, whatever they may be, and own up to the fact that there are currently two separate Peters standing around her? In the end, she decides to build, to grow. 

"There are two different Peters in this warehouse." Lydia says, matter-of-factly. Her voice sounds as though she has just discovered an interesting article in People Magazine, and is intent on showing someone. Right Peter clucks condescendingly. 

"Are you sure that was smart, Ms. Martin?" Right Peter....Scruffy Peter asks. She scowls at him, utterly unimpressed. She wonders if he can smell the fear she feels nonetheless. Other Peter, or, rather, Real Peter certainly can, that she knows. He's moved closer to her, hands at his sides, eyes too wide, too emotive. She supposes he doesn't want to deal with another screaming fit. 

"What do you mean two Peters?" Stiles asks calmly. Lydia isn't sure but she thinks Stiles might be patronizing her. Either that or he's exactly as horrified at the thought as she is. At least he doesn't have to see and hear both of them. 

She sighs. "There is a Peter right there," she says, pointing to Eerily Quiet Peter. Stiles nods as if to say _duhhh_ but Lydia continues. "And there is a Peter right there." she says, gesturing to the Creepily More Creepy Peter beside her. Stiles opens his mouth. Stiles closes his mouth. Lydia just gets tired of it. 

"There is a Peter right there," she repeats. "Right there." she's getting more frustrated by the minute. Stiles and Stiles-Seeable Peter walk up to her. 

The Sheriff is still crouched over Mr. Argent and Scott. Isaac, Derek, and Allison are still passed out cold. Lydia can't help but not feel anything over any of these. Her world narrows to Stiles and two Peters. 

Surprisingly, a response comes from one of the Peters. 

"What does he look like? What does he sound like?" For a minute the world sort of tips and Lydia struggles to remember which Peter is which, but Stiles is looking at the Peter that's talking and Lydia sighs in relief. 

It's the Peter that's been a Peter all night. Lydia frowns slightly before brushing it off. She'll question her sanity later. 

"He sounds like you did right before you used me to come back to life." she says pointedly. Peter is the one opening and closing his mouth now. Lydia thinks they need to come at this from a different angle before she rips the hair out of her head. 

"What was that thing that Ms. Blake summoned?" Lydia asks pointedly. She's looking at Real Peter expectantly, but it's Not-Peter Peter and Stiles that answer at the same time. 

"Your unmaking." Demon!Peter says at the same time Stiles says "A barghest." Lydia ignores the former and focuses on the latter. 

"You mean the faerie that foretells death?" she asks. She can use Wikipedia just like anyone else, even if it is a somewhat flawed source that leaves her wanting for more on most occasions. 

"Not quite." Stiles says at the same time that More Annoying Peter cackles hellishly. Lydia only raises one perfect eyebrow, the arch of it demanding Stiles answer and answer fast. He pulls in a deep gasp of air before he starts to elaborate. 

"In the Argent's bestiary, the barghest - the Black Dog of York - is a Celtic spirit," he says. "I came across it when I was-" and he stumbles at this, his voice turning into a tight mumble. "When I was looking for ways to kill the Kanima if it came to that." he finishes weakly. 

Lydia nods absently, but stays otherwise silent for a moment. The pained look on Stiles' face resolves itself and with another breath he continues. "The barghest is sort of more malevolent than that. It well. The bestiary said that it was a spirit summoned to," and at this Stiles makes overly exaggerated finger quotation marks in the air "send the unlucky into the cold embrace of death, darkness, and eternal damnation." 

Lydia frowns, but does not point out the obvious. They are clearly not dead. Eternally damned, maybe, but not dead by a long shot. She's about to ask what that has to do with Peter-in-the-Plural when the sound of someone shifting around behind her draws her attention. 

"Uggggghhhhhhh, bitch." Isaac says woozily from the ground at the same time that Derek grumbles lowly, his eyes flying open. Werewolves. Whatever. 

"What a sweet little pack that is." Possibly Invisible-Zombie Peter croons, leering unsettlingly. Lydia stares at him for a long moment, willing him to go away. He doesn't. She's somewhat miffed. Unsurprised, but still miffed. 

Lydia has been so encompassed with dealing with multiple Peters that she neglected to notice the fact that the Sheriff is no longer there. That Scott and Chris Argent are no longer there. Her eyes slide towards Stiles. 

_The hospital_ , he mouths. Lydia nods, it is short and precise, confident. Exactly the opposite of how she currently feels. 

Stiles clears his throat awkwardly and walks over to check on Derek, Isaac, and Allison. Leaving her with the Peters. The _Peters_. She sighs once more. Both are frustratingly Peter for different reasons. 

The Unhinged Peter keeps staring at her, as if she is a holder of deep, dark, mystical secrets. And maybe she is, Lydia thinks. The _more_ Unhinged Peter is talking her ear off. Talking about pack, and Argents, and party plans. Wait. Party plans? 

Oh. Birthday party plans. Lydia recalls those plans. Lydia isn't even sure how this is possible. What is this that she's seeing? Is it illusion? Is it a spirit? But...Peter isn't dead. But also, Peter isn't dead _anymore_. So it's all sorts of uncharted territory, she thinks. 

She's startled out of her reverie when Stiles revives Allison finally, and she bursts into tears. Wrinkling her nose, Lydia waltzes over and kneels down, 

"Allison. Allison, calm down. What's wrong? What's going on?" She asks, her tone soft, her hands stroking up and down Allison's arms soothingly. It's not really her thing, overt physical affection, but then again maybe she needs a little soothing herself. 

Allison, however, doesn't seem to be hearing anything, or if she is, she's certainly not showing it. She is however, speaking. Though to none of them. She keeps repeating the same sentence over and over again. 

"You're not real." And on and on she goes. Stiles is looking even more awkward now. Derek and Isaac have already shared at least three separate looks, and if Lydia is judging their faces, have smelled ten times as many different emotions, or, scents, or, whatever it is that werewolf noses smell. 

Hobo Peter is cackling madly, going on about scratching itches and killing bitches. He actually starts belting out the lyrics to _Burning Down The House_ , and it's actually almost amusing. If it wasn't so unsettling. 

Slightly Saner Peter is simply staring, and to be honest, Lydia isn't sure which is the more unsettling of the two. She is surprised he has not vanished yet, especially as he hasn't said a word for what feels like ages. If mindless screaming is her thing, vanishing into the shadows is sort of his. There's a life lesson in here somewhere, but Lydia decides she can't be bothered with it right now. 

"Scott. Where's Scott?" and it isn't Allison who has stopped being neurotic to ask after him. This is Isaac, and he's shaking with nerves. Positively quaking. A rare pang of sympathy rushes through her body and suddenly Isaac's nostrils are flaring and he's turning a pointed, though indecipherable look her way. 

He seems drawn away by something beside her, however, and for one shining moment Lydia hopes that what Isaac is seeing is Peter beside her. 

But then Peter's giggling maniacally over something he's just realized about Isaac and Isaac just has this intense look on his face. He looks down, looks back up, and Lydia could swear he mumbles "I miss you." And clearly he isn't seeing what _she_ is seeing. 

Obviously she is not the only one to catch this. Derek is glaring at Isaac like he's reached his overwhelming emotion quota for the day and Peter....Happy Peter is moving to help him up. Zany Peter is- 

Well well well. Lydia's Personal Peter is nowhere to be seen. Fantastic. Terrific. Absolutely lovely. 

"Well!" Lydia says, standing up and pulling Allison along with her. "Let's join our friends at the hospital then. Yes?" Stiles still looks uncertainly between Allison and Isaac and Lydia, but at her glare he rolls his eyes and gestures for them to follow him. 

And they do. Lydia thinks that pleases Stiles. She's fairly certain Stiles prides himself on pretending to be pack mom. She can think of a few reasons why he would put himself in that role. She thinks he wouldn't appreciate any of them, or at least, easily admit to them. 

Lydia helps Allison into the passenger seat before slipping comfortably into the backseat of Stiles' jeep while Derek and Isaac get into his car without a second glance. Lydia is pleased with the outcome, as she wasn't looking forward to being squished into such a death trap. 

Except suddenly the jeep dips and she shoots a look at Stiles who is gaping like a fish out of water. She huffs and doesn't bother looking to see who just got in beside her, she doesn't need to. 

Peter hasn't stopped staring at her since she revealed Other Peter. Or maybe the Peter next to her should be Other Peter. She's still uncertain. Stiles starts his jeep without a word and drives. He just drives. 

Derek and Isaac are driving steadily behind them and for one shining, shimmering, Disney second, all seems to feel... not right, but manageable, with the world. 

There's only one Peter, Allison has lapsed into silence and is no longer looking so out of her mind. Stiles has his hands on the steering wheel and hasn't so much as said a single peep, and Lydia just relaxes. Just wants to - just wants to breathe a little before the real world slaps them in the face in the form of the hospital and injured friends and parents. 

Before maybe Peter multiplies again, and she's the cream in a Peter ore - ohh no - that's not a thing. That's a definite Stiles sort of thought. Lydia has just decided to make a mental note to converse less with Stiles Stilinski when Derek's car swerves off the road and into the tree line. Lydia is startled, but not surprised. It makes a sick kind of sense. 

And suddenly there is a second Peter next to her as they are getting out of the car and rushing towards where Derek's car drove off the road. He takes one look at her, grins, and simply says 

"I hope he's insured." Smug bastard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! I've got the next chapter written, it's Derek's POV, and I think right now it might be my favorite, but, it's shorter than both 1 and 2 right now and I might try to beef it up a little and also I'd like to stagger it so I can finish the chapter after it and (maybe) the chapter after that before I post it. We'll see! Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Derek," Isaac moans. He glances over at his beta to see the boy's head in his hands, blood spilling from between his fingers. Derek would be alarmed and guilt-ridden, possibly for the next three weeks, if not for the reason he swerved off the road to begin with. 
> 
> His sister, Laura, is in front of them. And she looks pissed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finished the chapter after this, so I decided to post this one a bit early. I have so many _feels_ over Derek's pack all the time, it's pretty ridic. Anyway, hope you enjoy! I'm going to try to start and finish the chapter after the next before I go ahead and post the next chapter, just because I've decided keeping one chapter ahead seems like sound logic.

### Chapter Three - Affection Makes the Forlorn Heart Warm 

##### (Or: When did Tim Burton start directing my life?) 

Things were awkward and terrible. But things were always awkward and terrible. Lately though, things had felt like they were spiraling out of control. That in of itself was a joke, because if there was one thing Derek knew without a doubt, it was that he never had control of anything. Of that, Derek was certain. 

"Derek," Isaac moans. He glances over at his beta to see the boy's head in his hands, blood spilling from between his fingers. Derek would be alarmed and guilt-ridden, possibly for the next three weeks, if not for the reason he swerved off the road to begin with. 

His sister, Laura, is in front of them. And she looks pissed. 

Derek is physically incapable of drawing his eyes away from her. They were all the family either of them had for so long, just to see her. To see her in one piece. It fills his body with an emotion he will never even try to describe with words. 

Her name is on his lips but she turns suddenly, looks at his whimpering and wounded beta, and turns back, her alpha-red eyes glowing with accusation and something Derek maybe thinks is disappointment. He all but flinches. He takes the hint. 

Derek undoes his seatbelt to help Isaac, but the action randomly jogs a memory. 

_Derek undoes his seatbelt, Erica is in the passenger seat looking purposely bored. Isaac and Boyd share the back, talking idly over something to do with the kanima. They're all in the car because Derek is treating them to a pre-Full Moon dinner._

 _"Why do you even wear one of those?" Erica laughs, suddenly surprised, as though whatever it is is just so ridiculous to consider. When Derek raises his eyebrow, Erica gestures to the seatbelt. "Why bother?" she adds._

 _

Boyd and Isaac have fallen silent and seem to be curious as well. Isaac has that smirk on his face, the one he's had since he was bitten. Boyd simply looks nonplussed. Derek silently wonders if maybe Boyd is the only person in the entire world with less expressions than himself. He considers shrugging it off, but decides that an overly confident beta is a threat to the security of the pack. He decides that the honeymoon is over and they need to take this more seriously. 

"My entire family died in a house fire," They know the story, the Hale House Fire, everyone does. It doesn't mean they don't react. Erica narrows her eyes in thought, Isaac chews softly on his lip, and Boyd looks slightly less made of stone. They know he's not finished speaking, so they wait him out. 

"I decided a long time ago that there's no harm in taking precautions to prevent unnecessary pain." he says plainly. The betas consider that briefly, but the moment passes and they're all getting out and gorging on food and ridiculing 'McCall and his pet humans' and it's all Derek can do not to tell them that next to McCall they're barely a blip. That Scott is stronger because his defiance is borne of an inner-strength of will that they don't have. That Derek's afraid they will never have. 

In the end, they all pile back into the car and he clicks his seatbelt into place. Three other clicks echo his. Erica is still looking bored, Isaac is still smirking, and Boyd still seems a bit like a living statue, but they're all wearing their seatbelts. 

It's sort of ridiculous, Derek thinks, and to the three of them his face hasn't even twitched or changed at all. But Derek thinks maybe this is the first moment they are all a pack for real. He thinks that maybe this could work. He finds the thought thrilling. He finds it warms him just a little.

_

Shaking his head to free himself of the stray memories, Derek leans over and unbuckles Isaac's belt. The boy is still out of it, and Derek thinks the crash wasn't that bad, before he remembers that Isaac had previous injuries before they even got in the car. He sighs. 

"Isaac," he says gently. He rubs the boy's back and shakes him carefully. "Isaac," he repeats himself one more time. The boy seems to shake himself off, reminding Derek of a dog getting out of water. Blood is crusted over his face. His nose was definitely broken in the crash, but that seems healed. There's a gash above his eyes where most of the blood is coming from, but that too seems to be healing normally. 

"I'm sorry," Derek says suddenly. Isaac glances at him, surprised, but so weary. 

"What happened?" he asks in confusion. Derek sighs. It's not exactly easy to explain that your dead sister appeared in front of your car and you swerved to avoid killing her. That doesn't make sense. Then again, there is the whole _Peter thing_. So. Derek has some good reasons to rationalize that sort of logic. 

He realizes that Isaac is still waiting for him to answer though. The others are pushing through the brush, though, weaving in between the trees quickly. They'll be here in just a few moments and he could wait and let them distract Isaac into forgetting his question. Make him forget that Derek is always failing him. 

"I saw my sister," Derek says instead. Isaac pauses in thought, knows he isn't talking about Cora. "She was right in front of us and I freaked out." he adds. Isaac nods, still thoughtful. 

"I saw Erica in the warehouse. She got into the car with us. She was talking to me before we crashed," Isaac rambles. His hands are shaking slightly and there's a soft growl building in Derek's throat. He is surprised by Isaac's words, but, he's also reminded that Isaac isn't the only one he's let down. 

"But she's gone again." Isaac whispers, and his voice, even so soft, cracks slightly. The growl bursts forth from between Derek's lips, his face a snarl of pain and regret. 

He's never really talked about Erica's death with Isaac. And with Boyd so recently - with Boyd - well, it's become another silent thing shuffled under the rug. 

Derek pulls Isaac into a rough hug and just holds him there. His beta is still shaking, but the hug - the touch of his alpha - gives him strength to draw from. Isaac shudders and leans his head on Derek's shoulder and just cries quietly. Derek lets him. 

And Laura's back again, standing outside the passenger door staring at him. She doesn't look so angry anymore. She just looks sad. She's dead and she's sad for Derek and his poor, broken beta. 

The thought constricts his throat, makes his eyes burn. He knows they're just as red as hers are. Derek hates emotions sometimes. He hates the pain of them, and how they're like a drug coursing through his body, keeping him strung out and fucked up. 

He's drawn back to reality by the deep breath Isaac takes to steady himself. He realizes the reason behind it. Stiles has just reached the driver side door and is staring at them, afraid to interrupt. Isaac moves to disentangle himself from Derek but Derek holds fast, reaches his hand up and squeezes Isaac's shoulder soothingly. 

Isaac meets his eyes and looks so grateful it makes Derek's insides clench. He needs to do better. He needs to be better for his pack. He nods sharply and then turns around and opens the door and steps out to stand beside Stiles. 

"You're hurt." Stiles says pointedly, before literally pointing to Derek's cheek. Derek reaches up to touch the place Stiles indicated and draws his hand back to look at the blood on his fingers. 

"Yeah," he says softly. "I am." Stiles says nothing, but gets such a look in his eye, but even that is gone in a moment as he pushes around the car to open the other door and check on Isaac. 

Derek's feeling pretty overly sensitive at this point, and so he's something close to relieved when Peter trots out of the shadows and gives him a long look. 

"Your premium is going to be ridiculous now." He says snootily. Derek snorts out a laugh, but Lydia who has just showed up in time to catch the comment huffs and turns back the way she came, her scent wreathed with open hostility as she grumbles something that sounds like 'crazy pair of double mint twins'. Derek just blinks at that. Peter, however, looks scandalized. 

"Was it something I said?" Peter asks blithely at the same time Isaac and Stiles come around from the other side of the car. 

"Probably." Isaac says at the same time Stiles says "Definitely." Peter just huffs. Derek can't help but think he preens a little though. Derek is about to call him on it when Isaac shifts awkwardly on his feet. He slides his eyes to look at Stiles hesitantly before saying. 

"Ah...are you seeing people that you shouldn't be, Stiles?" The question is a valid one, but Stiles suddenly smells like embarrassment and...muted desire? 

And he's looking at Derek. But just for a second. Derek is taken by surprise but bites back a grin nonetheless, makes sure to file that information away for later. 

Derek doesn't think Isaac caught Stiles' look, thankfully. Derek's eyes flash to his uncle and the older Hale is grinning like he's the cat that ate the canary. Apparently Peter caught it. _Shit_. Stiles swallows slowly before responding. 

"Wh-uhh-what do you mean?" he asks. Isaac grimaces slightly and pushes ahead. 

"I keep seeing Erica, and-" he says, and Stiles startles at that. Isaac looks at Derek pointedly. Derek raises his eyebrow. Isaac sighs. "I keep seeing Erica. I was wondering if you'd seen any...anybody else?" he asks. 

"Like dead people?" Peter butts in. Isaac cringes but nods. Stiles looks like he's trying to make a joke, but he settles for a serious "Not yet." before he turns to Derek. 

"What about you? You sixth sensing any dead people lately?" Stiles asks. His face is playful but his tone seems sincerely curious. 

Derek just shrugs and starts trudging his way back up to the road. Isaac follows him wordlessly and after a moment of hesitation and a pursing of his lips, Stiles does too. Derek can tell that Peter hasn't moved from his spot, though. Oh well. Peter can pout or plot or do whatever, Derek thinks. 

He begins to think of Laura, and of his family. He wonders what his mother would say about how he's built this pack of his. 

He's sure she'd be disappointed. He's also sure she would never say something unkind to him about it. Only advise him to take care of him and his. He's so caught up in this train of thought that he doesn't hear the hushed argument until he hits the pavement of the road again. 

Isaac is rushing up beside him and apparently he's just heard it too. 

They both turn to the right where Stiles' jeep is parked to see Lydia gesturing wildly and doing her best to keep from screaming outright. Derek catches the words, _I'm not resurrecting you a second time_ , before Lydia shuts it down, clearly realizing that Derek and Isaac can hear her. 

"It's Other Peter. Or maybe Un-Peter. Or Pre-Peter." she groans, gesturing frustratingly to her side. Derek just stands still, but Isaac is loping forward, nodding as though he understands completely. 

The beta stops beside Lydia and tentatively puts a hand on her shoulder. Derek can see her fight the urge to shrug it off, but she doesn't. 

"I think I'm going crazy." She says instead. "Again." She adds, pained. Isaac shakes his head though. 

"You aren't." He says confidently. Derek thinks he has not been giving his beta enough credit. Derek thinks maybe he hasn't noticed him growing into himself. Derek wonders if that has anything to do with McCall. 

A selfish part of Derek whispers that he should command Isaac to return to the loft, but he brushes it off. It wouldn't be fair to him. Derek resolves that if Isaac ever asks to move back in though, he'll say yes. He won't let fear cloud his judgment again. Won't let it separate him from his pack. 

"Peter said he'd see you back at the loft." Stiles says, sliding up to stand beside him. "What are you going to do about your car?" he asks curiously. 

"I'll get Peter and Isaac to help me move it back onto the road tomorrow morning. Tonight though, we're just going to rest and recuperate." Derek says quietly. "There's something strange going on." he adds darkly. 

Stiles considers this for a moment, then "Is that why you crashed your car?" And after a beat, "Are you seeing things - dead people - too?" he says softly. 

Derek though, doesn't say anything. Only nods his head slowly. Stiles 'hmmmmm's' softly to himself before he flinches so hard Derek thinks he could have fallen over. 

"What?" Derek asks. Stiles only ignores him though. Walks a few steps in a daze, and then stops himself. 

"Uhhhhhh guys?" Stiles asks, his voice raised so that Lydia and Isaac can hear him as well. They stop their discussion, though Lydia's head twitches to the side from time to time, as though she is trying to tune something out. 

"What?" Derek asks again, his tone more than a little demanding. Stiles only looks at him anxiously. 

"Where's Allison?" he asks awkwardly. And, oh shit. 

Isaac blinks and looks at the empty jeep. Lydia makes a strangled sound and then whips around, as though Allison is hiding right behind her. 

"We have to find her," Lydia says, panic lacing her tone. Isaac nods sharply, but Lydia continues. "We can't leave her out here alone." Her anxiety grows with each syllable. 

"I'll find her," Derek hears himself saying, but Isaac is shaking his head. 

"No. I'll go find her," his beta remarks. Derek makes to argue but Isaac beats him to the punch. "You need to protect Stiles and Lydia. You need to protect Scott and Mr. Argent. I'll find her, Derek." Isaac says. "She can't have gone far." he finishes. 

Derek doesn't like this. Isaac is wounded. Isaac has been attacked by Allison in the past. Isaac is practically the only pack he has left. Derek doesn't like it one bit. 

"You know I'm right." Isaac says suddenly. He's assertive, and confident. Derek knows he's right. But Derek still doesn't like it. 

"Call Peter," he finds himself saying. "Have him help you find her." he growls. Isaac gives him an incredulous look, as if to say, _You want Peter to help me find an Argent?_ , and even Stiles is grumbling a little. 

Derek just grabs Stiles by the arm and stalks towards the jeep. "Do it." he says, as he passes Isaac, there's no alpha command in his voice. But Isaac knows him well enough to know that there could be. The beta nods stiffly and whips out his phone as Derek, Stiles, and Lydia get back into the jeep. 

Derek settles into the passenger seat and sighs mightily. This is gonna be a long night. Stiles is rubbing his eyes and starting his jeep. Lydia is pressing herself into the backseat and then surging forward as she starts another argument, exclaiming at someone beside her. 

"You looked like a creep when you were young, too!" she said, her finger wagging. Derek just groans. Yeah. Long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed it, comments and kudos are always appreciated!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _You're both dead_ , she wants to say, but she doesn't. She thinks it's because if she does they'll remember she's right and disappear. They are all monsters, the three of them. Monsters hunting monsters. But they're her monsters, her family. She needs them, she refuses to leave them. So instead, she takes a different route. _An easier path for a weaker woman_ , a part of her mind whispers, but she ignores it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, Allison Argent, everybody! Very excited to post this, I enjoyed writing Allison much more than I ever expected to. I've never really liked her that much on the show, I'm not sure why, but writing her was really awesome and it gave me some insight into her that maybe I hadn't considered. I think I'll appreciate her much more now.

### Chapter Four - And So We All Are Bid, To Wax And To Wane 

##### (Or: Shit gets real on family game night) 

"You're foolish to be here. This is your own fault, Allison." she says, critical. Always critical, always frosted from head to toe. Allison knows that there are choices she has made in her life and actions she has taken that have not led to things that were good for her. She knows this. And so she says as much. 

"I know." But it's not enough for her, Allison knows. 

"If you know, why are you here? When did you decide to throw away all of the lessons you've learned? When did you _decide_ to be weak instead of strong?" And it's something Allison has asked herself during the darkest moments of her life that she can't help the resulting cringe. 

"Oh calm down, Vicky, you always were so dramatic." And then there's _her_. If her mother is killing frost and raining fire, her aunt is all svelte and sashay. Allison thinks she might be all the worst parts of both of them. 

"What do you know, Kate? You don't even know what's at stake. You've been gone too long." Victoria growls. Kate only snorts softly. 

"I know more than most. When is the last time you slaughtered an entire pack of werewolves in their home?" she snipes. Her hair is still beautiful and voluminous, her eyes so wide and sincere. Allison wonders how someone so utterly breathtaking can be so ugly. 

"Peter Hale is alive again." Allison says. And it's not out of spite. Not at all. Victoria sort of wobbles, which is oddly funny to Allison, but her eyes are all for Kate. Her aunt has tensed up, one hand reflexively going up to her throat. Her head tilts, and Allison thinks if dead people could sweat, her aunt would be practically drowning. 

"Who cares?" Kate laughs a moment later, her face steeled and bereft of any emotion. Allison just stares at her. It's Victoria who clears the atmosphere with a not-so-subtle _tsk_. 

"Kate and I only have your best interests in mind, Allison." she says, her face still the picture of utmost severity. 

_You're both dead_ , she wants to say, but she doesn't. She thinks it's because if she does they'll remember she's right and disappear. They are all monsters, the three of them. Monsters hunting monsters. But they're her monsters, her family. She needs them, she refuses to leave them. So instead, she takes a different route. _An easier path for a weaker woman_ , a part of her mind whispers, but she ignores it. 

"Why did you even convince me to come out here in the first place?" Allison says, her hands on her hips and her body pointed aggressively at her mother. She realizes that she is mirroring the way her Aunt Kate is standing. She doesn't change her stance out of pure spite alone. 

Victoria Argent purses her lips, as if to say, _Why do you ask such idiotic questions?_ Allison merely raises an eyebrow. And if the gesture isn't just so jarringly Derek-esque, she doesn't know what is. Her mother actually huffs. Kate Argent simply chuckles in the way all people chuckle about someone they know, well, _carnally_. 

"You had to get away from them. It was the perfect opportunity. This Dark Druid has painted a target upon their backs, and you are so willing to cast your lot in with theirs. Just look at what happened to your father-" And it's here that Victoria Argent stumbles. Her voice cracks and for the merest fraction of a second, she looks uncertain, lost even. Even Kate looks uncomfortable. 

"They're my friends," Allison starts only to be interrupted immediately. Her mother is absolutely livid. 

"They're going to get you killed!" Victoria hisses poisonously. Allison looks desperately at Kate, but her aunt only puts her hands up in a helpless gesture. 

"Don't look at me, sweetheart. I would have killed them all if I could have." she says without remorse. Allison hunches in on herself to hold in the sob fighting to break free. She can't remember the last time she was this upset. Or she can but - Scott - and she's definitely not willing to go there right now. 

Victoria seems to follow her line of thought and abruptly demands she keep moving. "We've got to get you farther away from them. They'll be able to track your scent." she says. Kate nods sharply at that. Allison just wishes they were still arguing. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

They've been trudging around for what seems like hours now when a howl pierces the air. Kate blinks from view before reappearing a moment later. 

"Blonde. Curly hair. Cute." she says. Allison opens her mouth but it's her mother who answers. 

"Isaac Lahey." she states. "He was bitten by Hale." she adds. Kate raises an eyebrow, as if to say, _that seems to happen a lot_ , but Victoria ignores her. 

"Allison, do you have any weapons on you?" her mother asks. Allison simply stares at her. There's a different howl from further away and Kate blinks away again, reappearing with a look part rage and part fear. 

"Peter Hale." she says. Victoria massages her temples as she thinks. 

"Allison," she says again. Allison glares at her. 

"A couple knives. That's it. I left my bow in the warehouse." At the last part, Kate shakes her head and Victoria outright says "Foolish girl." 

Allison's spine stiffens and her teeth clench. She is not having this conversation again. 

"I. Was. Distracted." Allison grits out from between her teeth. Kate almost looks sympathetic, but it's drowned out by the overwhelming disappointment that has seemed to etch itself consistently onto Victoria Argent's face, even in death. 

"Do you remember how to lay a snare trap?" her mother asks. Allison remains silent, but nods once. Of course she does, what a stupid question to ask. So she says so. Sort of. 

"Of course I remember. I thought you'd have more faith in me, mom." she says, and if that doesn't bare her insecurities _way_ more than she intended. Kate actually chuckles, but Victoria's staring at her again. Allison realizes her mother uses her silence just as much as her words. 

"So lay one. I have an idea." Allison frowns. She doesn't want to kill anyone. She was so swept up when her Grandf - when Gerard rolled into town. And then her mother died, and, she made _bad decisions_. Was still trying to _fix_ said decisions. 

She wasn't trying to kill anyone. She wasn't even trying to maim. She just wanted _forgiveness_. How does her father understand this and her mother does not? She is so frustrated at this point. She wishes her mother saw her more than she did. She knows she loves her, but - but it's not enough - it just isn't. 

"I won't kill anyone." she mumbles painfully soft. Her mother actually begins to pace. Spouting off things that frustrate her about Allison. Things she should have done when she was alive to better tutor Allison. It's just too much. 

And so when her mother, without thinking, remarks "With how you're acting, you may as well be the one to kill yourself." Allison knows exactly what to say. 

"You did." she says neutrally. It's exactly the right and wrong thing to say. Her mother whips around, the skin on her face tightens and stretches as she all but snarls. Allison thinks she's never seen her mother look so monstrous. She thinks she's never seen her mother's emotions so close to the surface. Allison can't bring herself to feel bad about it. 

Kate looks shamed enough for her, though. Her aunt takes a step towards her mother, and then a step back. She turns to Allison and stares. But not for long, her aunt and mother are still two very different beasts, even now that they're no longer alive. 

"Set the trap, Allison. This is Peter Hale. You know as well as I do that he can't be trusted. Who knows what he wants with you? Who knows if he's even out here with your little friend." she says. 

The fact that her Aunt Kate is saying this is so warped and hypocritical. Allison thinks of all the people who have lied to her in her life. How most of them have shared her last name. But the logic is solid, and Allison finds herself laying the trap, if not only as a simple security measure. 

Allison turns to look at her mother who has been silent this entire time, only to find her gone. Panic seizes her and Allison feels cold fingers wrap around her heart. Her pulse is trumpeting in her ears and her hands, so still and methodical when she laid the trap, are shaking as if she'll never control them again. 

"Allison," her mother says from behind her. "Take out your knife." And Allison is so relieved to see and hear her mother again that she does what's asked of her without even thinking about it. 

"Cut yourself." her mother says, and she's following that order too before her hand stutters to a stop. 

"Why?" she asks, confused. But Kate's answering for her mother. 

"The wolves will smell it, they'll think you're in danger. You're the bait in your own trap." she says enthusiastically. Allison can tell her aunt is pleased with the suggestion. 

Allison feels compelled to listen to them. She's not sure if she just misses them that much, or if it's something else. Something maybe she doesn't understand. But suddenly the knife is resting against her forearm. Her mother is nodding, her aunt is smiling, all encouragement. 

The pain is only momentary. She'll get over it. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

She's been laying face down upon the ground for what she thinks has been fifteen minutes when she hears the first sound. It's the crunch of a boot on leaves and she hopes it's Peter and not Isaac. She's so easily manipulated, she thinks. Her gr- Gerard - used her like she was his prized dog. A stern look here, a rewarding hug there. She gets sick sometimes, thinking of how easily he controlled her. 

It's the same way now, she thinks. Her mother and her aunt control her so fully. Allison thinks it might be better if she just let them. Maybe it would take the pressure off of her throat, maybe she could breathe again. 

So she hopes it's Peter and not Isaac, because she doesn't want to hurt Isaac more than she already has. He's been nice to her lately, so much nicer than he has cause to be. He's charming - not Scott charming - but it's different, and she's decided not to dwell on it much. She did nothing but dwell on Scott, and look where it led them. Look where it led her. 

She wonders if maybe she'd just trusted him more, been more open with him, if they'd still be together. Allison thinks she might be doing the worst job ever at not-dwelling on Scott McCall. 

Her mother and aunt are chattering so loudly that Allison almost wants to tell them to be quiet before they ruin the trap she has carefully laid. She has time to think about it though, time to remember that they quite possibly could just be figments of her own imagination. 

But she vaguely remembers Lydia acting strangely, Isaac looking like he'd given up. Something more is happening here, Allison knows this to be true, at least. 

"It's Hale." her mother says. "He's about twelve feet away from you." her aunt adds. Allison wonders if he can hear her heart beating out of her chest. But apparently Victoria Argent wonders the same thing. 

"Breathe, Allison. Slow your heart. You know what you're capable of." And she does. She knows exactly what she's capable of. She knows it's nothing good. But she does as her mother bids her to do. 

The trick hunters teach each other to slow their hearts is sort of like the anchor werewolves use to remain human on the Full Moon. Allison considers her life, thinks of where she's been, and where she may yet go. But the key to this exercise, Allison knows, is contemplating what she's done. It's always presented itself with absolute clarity. She thinks it's easy. 

_She stabs Isaac twice in the back. She shoots an arrow into Erica's leg. Shoots so many more into Boyd's body._

And then the images are spiraling through her mind faster than she can follow, but they all remain stitched together by one common thread. 

The ruthlessness of her family infects her, and Allison knows quite easily, that she can be capable of _anything_. Her heart slows with this realization. It becomes much too slow to be natural for a normal human. Allison thinks it must sound like she is dying. 

The crunching speeds up. Her aunt and mother are practically screaming in excitement and anticipation. 

"He's two feet from you, Allison!" her mother nearly shouts. 

"Remember, as close to him as possible. He needs to practically be on top of you." her aunt hisses. Allison closes her eyes. The world seems to focus, and that clarity comes back. A hand touches her shoulder. She moves. 

The first thing she does is sweep out Peter Hale's legs from beneath him. The second is flipping up and away. The knife is already in her hand for the third, and before she realizes, it's in his shoulder. 

He growls and stumbles back. It's not enough. He's still a couple steps in front of the snare. 

"Whatever it takes, Allison!" her mother reminds her, now shouting fully. Allison launches herself at him. She sees his right side, the side where there is no knife - yet - tense, and she feints as though she was going to lean into it, dodging instead to slide right beneath his sloppy punch. Anger gets the best of Peter, she knows this. 

Allison surges up and jams her other knife into the place where his neck meets his collar bone. He chokes out another growl and his left arm slams into her stomach, knocking the breath right out of her. Instead of doubling over she purposely falls to the ground, rolling to end up further away from the werewolf. 

It doesn't matter, though. He is already stumbling backwards again, blue eyes enraged and pained. He steps into the snare and it triggers with a satisfying _whoosh_ of wind. He's done before he even realizes it and Allison takes a moment to think that these things are so much easier when the lost girl everyone's looking for is the one stabbing them in the gut. 

"Kill him." Kate snarls, her eyes practically glowing with want. 

"Kill him." Allison's mother repeats. 

Allison is startled to find that she's so much closer to Peter than she remembers being. She muses that maybe Lydia didn't have to worry so much about being the one to go crazy. Allison thinks she already is. She's not crazy enough to forget how this works though. 

She's going to take out her knife and she's going to shove it into his gut and she's going to cut until all of his intestines fall out of his body and onto the forest floor. And then she'll slit his throat for good measure. She thinks Kate will appreciate that. 

She's so caught up in all this, letting the ice freeze over her mind and body that she doesn't quite understand what her mother and aunt are saying, doesn't really hear the snap of twigs and leaves. She definitely doesn't hear the sharp intake of breath behind her. 

The knife is halfway between her and Peter when a hand flashes out, grabbing her right arm by the wrist. The last of her knives slips out of her pocket and into her other hand. 

She pivots to her right, leaning her body back into her attacker and twisting until it feels like she might pull her right arm out of the socket. Her plan is to aim for the jugular. It fails of course. 

Isaac is much too familiar with Allison's knives to forget how quick she can be. 

"Allison," he says, quiet and urgent. She looks at him, not really seeing him for a moment. The moment passes though, and she finds herself looking at him. His eyes are still blue, there's no sign of him having lost control or shifted. It's just him 

"What are you doing, Allison?" his voice is still soft, but it's also confused and troubled. 

"I-," she starts. "I don't-," her hands are shaking again. Wisely, Isaac keeps his grip firm. Allison finds that that helps. 

"I'm not sure." she says finally. His eyes soften a fraction. She feels the pressure on her throat again. What is she doing? 

"Allison," it's not Isaac this time. It's her mother. She seems scared. She seems tense. Allison wants to look at her, but she can't seem to break away from the pensive look Isaac is giving her. 

"I saw Erica." he says suddenly. "I see her right now." he adds, almost shyly. There's a pause. He snorts then. " _Shut up_." he groans. Allison knows he isn't talking to her. Fear is growing inside of Allison like so many weeds. 

"I can't control myself." she hears herself say. Isaac huffs a small laugh at that, and she can feel the heat of his breath on her face. 

"You think I can?" he asks incredulously. Allison frowns. It's different. 

"You're a _werewolf_." she argues. He rolls his eyes and it makes her frown deepen. 

"And your point is....?" he asks, almost impatiently. She doesn't know what to say to that, but he doesn't expect her to. 

"You saw the freezer." he says suddenly. Allison shudders at that. She did see the freezer. How could she forget? How many times do you see a box someone has used to lock their child in? How many times do you have to do the same thing to your boyfriend? It's not something that will ever go away, she thinks. Isaac isn't done talking though. 

"I understand trying to live up to the expectations of your parents. I understand failing." he says sincerely. Allison can't breathe now. She wills herself not to cry. She will not cry. 

"I know what it feels like to spiral so far out of control that you can't even remember it to begin with." he says. His eyes are boring holes into her and she feels like he understands. She feels like she's being offered a choice. She feels like redemption can still be something she can aim for. 

"Allison," her mother says. This time Allison turns to look at her. She looks at her mother and her aunt. She sees them, wrapped up in their own lives, even though their own lives ended. 

"Allison, I'm-" her mother begins. But Allison sort of knows that she can't pin her actions on her mother or her aunt. She can't pin them on her grandfather or her dad. The thought brings a sad smile to her face. 

"You're dead" she says. Her mother snaps her mouth shut with an audible _clack_. Allison feels like the words free her a little bit. Not all the way. But enough for now. She drops her knives and she's about to turn back towards Isaac when her aunt steps forward suddenly. She's placed a hand on her mother's shoulder, but she's staring right at Allison. 

"That doesn't mean we're going to leave you." She says firmly. "You know that right?" Allison tries to be ashamed of the whimper that comes out of her mouth, of the way she sags at the revelation. She tries to ignore the swelling in her chest when her mother, all stern contours and sharp angles nods shortly in agreement, nods as though it was never a question to begin with. 

"I do now." she says softly. Isaac is quiet behind her, understanding evident from the way his hands release her wrists and his arms slip down her body to give her a hug. It's comforting and forgiving and it's sort of just what she needs. 

The moment is broken by an obnoxious _ah-ah-hem_. Allison looks over, and Peter is still hanging from the tree, Allison's two knives still exactly where she left them. 

"Well _I'm_ still pissed." he says. Allison raises her eyebrow at him, channeling his nephew and alpha. He seems visibly startled. 

"You'll get over it." she finds herself saying. He looks like he's thinking about it for a moment before he shrugs. Because, he will. Allison can feel Isaac shaking his head against her shoulder in amusement, and he releases her to go let Peter down. Allison looks around for her aunt and her mother, but they're no where to be seen. She's not bothered by it much though. She believes her family. She realizes that she can love them without becoming them. 

She realizes that she'll get over it too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! For everyone that's reading because I tagged _Scisaac_ , just wanted to let you know that there is one chapter after this, and then the chapter after that, Isaac and Scott will figure prominently in. I'd originally wanted them to be the main driving force of this story, but Lydia, Derek, and Allison have _issues_ , **exciting** issues, and I've found myself getting caught up in them. I know I said Scisaac Slowburn, but maybe I should have tagged Scisaac Defrost-First. Many apologies for that! There is some (vague, distant) Sterek next chapter though, as we'll be jumping back to Derek for the next chapter. Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek gritted his teeth. It had been going on like this for at least ten minutes now. The drive to the hospital had been peaceful aside from Lydia's intermittent outbursts and Stiles' infuriating habit of tapping anxiously on his steering wheel. They had come to get an update on Argent and Scott, to figure things out and touch base with the rest of their group. Derek expected to talk to the Sheriff for a few minutes, check in on their wounded and head out. He had hoped he'd be able to help Isaac find Allison. That was most certainly not happening now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man oh man, Teen Wolf is definitely heating up. I'm psyched for the mid-season finale! This chapter took longer to get out, because I'd finished it and started on Chapter Six, but it just didn't feel right to me, so I went back and did some fairly significant rewrites and decided that each chapter is going to have two different POV's from now on, because I think it'll help the flow of the story and allow me to write more lengthy chapters. So, with that out of the way, here you are! Hope you enjoy!

### Chapter Five - For Though We Walk Without Aim, Destiny Charts Our Course 

##### (Or: I'm feeling much better now. Positively Hale.) 

Stiles wouldn't sit still. He was driving and he wouldn't _sit still_. Lydia was already bothered, the imaginary sociopath on her right had been driving her absolutely crazy since they got in the car. He kept asking her inane questions, questions that his living counterpart already knew the answers to. 

"How's Jackson?" he asks at one point, the leer of a dirty old man on his face. Lydia pinched the bridge of her nose in annoyance, because _annoying_. She decided not to respond to that. Peter seemed to realize this, so he moved on. 

"My nephew seems even grouchier than usual." he says. Lydia looks over at Derek and realized that he was right. Derek was bent inward as though he wanted nothing more than to curl up into himself. Lydia frowned, but didn't say a word. She thought Derek was worried about Isaac. She was too. And Allison, Allison had not been herself since the warehouse. She reminded Lydia too much of herself back when Peter was using her to engineer his rebirth. Speaking of Peter. 

"Heard any good jokes lately?" he asks seriously. She sighs and gives him a look of pure loathing. 

"Do I look like I care why the chicken crossed the road?" she says prissily. He sighs and mirrors her actions, pinching the bridge of his nose in what looked like sincere bemusement. 

"I would have settled for a good Knock Knock joke. Death gets boring you know." He says. Lydia raised a single brow. 

"No. I wouldn't know." she says haughtily. For the first time since he appeared, Magic!Peter turns away. He is looking out the window and Lydia thinks she's finally got to him. She resisted the urge to dance a small, completely ridiculous jig. It was close though. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

They had barely gotten into the hospital when Melissa McCall swooped down onto them with all the ferocity of an avenging angel. 

"You!" she practically screeched at Stiles. He visibly startles, his arms flying up in the air as he actually _dodges_ backwards as if he was avoiding someone's fist. Lydia bit back a groan because it was honestly one of the stupidest things she'd seen all night. If she happened to be smiling from the familiarity of it though, that was purely coincidental. 

"Hi Mama McCall!" Stiles says, his tone just slightly manic. Scott's mother's eyes narrow. Her gaze lingers on Stiles for a second more before she swivels abruptly, her eyes falling on Derek. Stiles made a small 'eep' sound, but it was too late to stop the oncoming storm. 

"And you!" she growls. "You're supposed to protect these kids. Scott told me - he told me that you're their - their _alpha_. And if that means what I'm pretty darn sure it means, you're doing a spectacularly bad job." Nurse McCall gritted out from behind clenched teeth. Lydia may or may not have been slightly in awe. This was a woman she could get behind. She made a point of ignoring Peter's wolf whistle towards the woman. 

Derek, for his part, seemed to multiply in grumpiness. 

"Scott never wanted to be in my pack." he says, and his face is such an utter _mean mug_ that Lydia purses her lips to keep from being visibly amused. Stiles isn't so lucky. He openly giggles, drawing the ire of Ms. McCall. Her arm lashes out and snags Stiles by the ear, her other hand wrapped around Derek's forearm. 

"My son is a lot of things, but one thing he's always been is smart with his loyalties." she says tersely before she drags them away. She shoots Lydia a quick smile over her shoulder as she walks away with the two. 

"Nice to see you Lydia." she says. Lydia waves politely, returning the smile with a sincerity that surprises her. She was broken out of her admiration of the other woman by Peter's snicker. 

"She got even hotter since the last time I saw her." Lydia glared at him but otherwise said nothing. She found herself meandering into the hallway Ms. McCall went down with Stiles and Derek, watching people come and go. She positioned herself right outside the room they were in and leaned idly against the wall as she inspected her nails. 

The room Derek and Stiles had been brought into was small and had a fairly large window that showed its interior. Lydia's eyes glanced up from inspecting her nails to watch the proceedings within. It looked like Derek and Stiles were getting their asses handed to them. Lydia smirked as Derek stuck out his lower lip into a pout before realizing what he was doing and tensing back up. 

Peter hopped up onto a hospital stretcher beside her and gestured towards the room. 

"Derek wants to bang your friend." he says crassly. Lydia rolls her eyes. 

"Not that Stiles is my friend - but, if you must know - I'm pretty sure the feeling is mutual." she says. Peter cackles and puts his hands in his lap. 

"So what are you?" he asks abruptly. Lydia tenses but forces herself to relax. 

"A very annoyed girl with very annoying friends and an even more annoying personal ghost." she says plainly, causing Peter to nod enthusiastically. 

"Caught that. But. What are you? I always guessed witch." he says with a thoughtful look. Lydia rolls her eyes. 

"Well that's just rude." she says as she crossed her arms. "And stereotypical." she adds. 

"It was just a thought. You do some pretty spooky shit." he says with a grin. Lydia clenches her teeth and turns to look at Peter, her eyes narrowed. 

"You're one to talk. No one even likes you." she hisses. He's still grinning. 

"You do." he says, and she snorts at that, practically slaps her knee from the hilarity of it. 

"That's only if you're assuming Stockholm Syndrome is applicable to hauntings," she says with a sneer. He turned to stare at her and Lydia fell back against the wall with an exasperated breath. "And I can assure you, it isn't." He shrugged his shoulders as if to say, _my roguish ways are irresistible_. Lydia threw him a skeptical look in return. She decided she was entitled to a question or two herself. 

"What are _you_ , since we're talking existential crises? You know we have a Peter already, right?" Lydia asks shortly. This Peter sort-of-flinches but ponders the question intently. 

"We're the same. I think. But. I. Hmm." he says helpfully and unhelpfully all at once. 

"That's not very helpful." Lydia says. Peter frowns at her, his eyebrows doing a little waggle of frustration that turns his face into a very awkward pout. He wasn't finished though. 

"I think whatever I - he...we did, left me behind here." he says, sweeping his arms up to gesture at his surroundings. Lydia considers that. 

"Everything has a price." he says seriously. Lydia was actually beginning to feel bad for him. So she was relieved when the world, which had begun to tip, righted itself when Peter returned to his usual snark. 

"And I bet the price you paid for those monstrosities you consider shoes was way too high." he said, gesturing to her very very fashionable heels. Lydia let out a scandalized gasp. 

He did not just go after the shoes. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

"What did you do?" Stab. "What have you gotten him into?" Stab. "Why was he _wounded_?" Stab. "What do you have to say for yourself?" Stab. "I'm not sure I really like your attitude." Stab. "Shame on you." 

Derek gritted his teeth. It had been going on like this for at least ten minutes now. The drive to the hospital had been peaceful aside from Lydia's intermittent outbursts and Stiles' infuriating habit of tapping anxiously on his steering wheel. They had come to get an update on Argent and Scott, to figure things out and touch base with the rest of their group. Derek expected to talk to the Sheriff for a few minutes, check in on their wounded and head out. He had hoped he'd be able to help Isaac find Allison. That was most certainly not happening now. 

"Well? What do you have to say for yourself?" Derek sighs. Melissa McCall was on a war path. Apparently people's mothers got pissed when the Sheriff brought them and their ex-girlfriend's father to the hospital riddled with bullet holes. 

Derek thought that the woman was being over dramatic. Derek thought even more that she was wasting his time. Derek thought, despite all this, that she happened to be disconcertingly frightening, and was reminded more than a little of his own mother. 

"Uhhhhh." he manages, eloquently. Derek suddenly found that he was extremely jealous of Lydia. Why wasn't she getting yelled at? She was involved in all of this business too. He realized he might have been pouting. He fixed that. Immediately. 

Derek looked out the window to see her arguing animatedly with an empty hospital stretcher. Or maybe he wasn't as jealous as he'd thought. He turned his attention back to Ms. McCall when Lydia literally began to shake her fists in the air. 

But now Stiles was looking at him with mounting horror and Derek blinked. He must have missed something Scott's mom said. He realized he did when she blatantly asked 

"Did you hear what I said, Derek Hale?" He squashed the urge to glare at her. He was not a teenager and he would not throw a tantrum. He may or may not also be afraid of what she would do to him. 

"Derek was only trying to save my dad, Ms. McCall." Stiles interjects. At that, Ms. McCall - Melissa - softened. Her eyes looked quickly to Stiles and she took his hands in her own. 

"I'm so sorry, Stiles. I know it must have been unimaginable." Derek snorts, because that seems like quite the understatement to him. 

It was a bad idea. Melissa McCall's eyes slide back to him and suddenly he was on the receiving end of a fiery look he gets regularly from Scott. She frowns deeply, and there is a look in her eyes that says _you've fucked up for the last time_. 

"I've seen someone shoot my son before. I didn't care for it then. I don't care for it now." She says calmly. "Explain to me what happened." she adds. Her tone just as controlled. 

"Please." And there's a tremor in her voice. Maybe from fear, but Derek thinks there is a good amount of _Mama Bear_ in there too. And so he does. 

He explains about the English teacher, he explains about finding the Sheriff. He explains about the bullet holes. He does _not_ explain that members of his pack have been seeing _other, more deceased_ members of his pack. He most _definitely_ does not explain that Lydia has been arguing with his Uncle since they arrived at the hospital. Only his Uncle is with Isaac trying to find Allison Argent. 

His explanations must seem to be enough for the time being, because Melissa McCall sags, draws in on herself for just a moment and simply breathes. Slowly in. Slowly out. 

"Who do you want to see first?" she says finally. 

"My dad." Stiles says. But Derek has other worries on his mind. All of the excitement tonight has distracted him from the reason he was in the hospital once already today to begin with. 

"Take me to see my sister." he says firmly. Melissa nods, almost reluctantly. She ushers them out of the room and points Stiles to Scott's room, where his father has apparently been since they arrived at the hospital. Stiles brightens slightly and takes off. 

Melissa gestures for Derek to follow her but he stops for a moment, looks at Lydia. 

"Lydia," he says. She looks up and sniffs disdainfully. 

"Yes?" she asks cattily. He smells so much smug on Melissa he almost gnashes his teeth. So he settles for simple instructions. 

"Go find Chris and check on him. Update him." he says. Lydia seems on the verge of arguing, but instead deflates and turns on her heel, flouncing off without even asking Melissa what room he's in. 

He turns back to Melissa McCall to see one eyebrow raised perfectly in the most prominent arch. Derek wonders if that's how his face looks when he raises his own eyebrows. He hopes not. He really does. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Cora is pale and her breathing is so labored it makes Derek physically ill. Nurse McCall led him to her room and then left with the promise **(threat?)** of returning soon. She is not healing. She isn't even stabilizing. Derek's hands have been frustratedly balled into fists since he walked into the room. 

"Well?" he growls. "Aren't you going to accuse me of being a bad brother? You've already reminded me of what a terrible alpha I am." he hisses out from between clenched teeth. 

Laura looks at him consideringly for a moment. She's been beside him the entire time he's been in the hospital. She listened silently when Nurse McCall screamed at him. Walked calmly beside him when he made his way to Cora's room. Stood thoughtfully on the other side of Cora's bed when he sat down and just _growled_ for five minutes after Ms. McCall left. 

"I don't think you're a bad brother." she says finally. Her voice is so soft and it's been so long since he heard it that his lip twitches, unsure of whether to smile or frown. Derek doesn't respond, and so she continues. 

"I can barely remember her myself, and you only just met her again." she sighs. Suddenly she slumps into the chair on the other side of Cora's bed. Laura's eyes are steadily glowing, their red light casting shadows across her face, making the pain there deep and impossibly real, undeniable. Derek has only ever used his abilities as an alpha as a means of intimidation, or an outlet for his anger. He forgets how Laura used it as an extension of herself, as a window into her soul. He sees a lot of their mother in her. 

"What do I do?" he asks. She just smiles sadly. 

"I wish I knew." she replies. Cora coughs harshly and they both look at her, falling into silence. Minutes pass, but they just stay like that, refusing to move or break the silence. Derek thinks maybe they would have gone on like that all night if not for Stiles barging in about ten minutes afterwards. 

"Scott's gone." he says, out of breath from most likely sprinting here, Derek thinks. Derek doesn't smell any fear on the boy though, so he only asks 

"Where?" and Stiles takes a moment to roll his eyes. Derek's not sure if it's because of his tone or the recent turn of events with Scott. 

"I was talking to my dad and Scott and I told them about Allison and Isaac. Scott sort of freaked out. I thought I calmed him down, but I should have known. That idiot always pulls this. After the Take-Your-Medicine-Gerard thing, you'd think I'd have learned." Stiles rambles. Derek took a moment to grin at how utterly Stiles the whole not-explanation is when Laura 'hmmm's'. He looks over at her and sees the same, _oh really now_ , look Peter had on his face earlier in the woods. Derek grunts noncommittally. Laura smirks at that. 

"And, Stiles?" Derek grounds out. And maybe he sounds more angry than he actually is. He has an image to uphold. 

"He - that secret master manipulator - he asked me to check on Lydia. So I went to go find her because - Lydia, especially you know, with all the - you know, _Peter_." he gestures wildly at this, his face doing what Derek thinks might be an impression of how shady Peter's face always looks. "So I did, and ten minutes later, my dad walks past me while I'm trying to find her. So I stop him." Stiles takes a deep breath at this. 

"My dad said Scott asked him to get him a pudding from the cafeteria. Only Scott absolutely hates hospital food, I know this. I _know_ it. So I go back to his room, and he's gone. And I find this." Stiles pulls a sheet of paper out of his pocket to give to him. Derek takes the slip of paper and unfolds it, reading what Scott has written hastily. 

_Gone to help Isaac find Allison. I feel so much better. Really. Watch my mom for me. Tell your dad he can have my pudding._

_P.S. Stiles, let your dad have my pudding._  
 _P.P.S Seriously. He deserves it._  
 _P.P.P.S But for real, Stiles._  
 _P.P.P.P.S Don't be a jerk._

Derek stares at it for a long moment. Stiles lets out an exasperated huff and walks around the bed to sit at the chair Laura is currently occupying. Derek is half-tempted to tell him not to sit there, but he's already plopping down when Derek finally formulates any sort of excuse. Stiles sits in the chair with a huff and Laura just disappears. 

Derek nearly growls - is literally on the verge of standing up from his chair to yell at Stiles - when Laura simply reappears at the foot of Cora's bed with a shrug. 

"No harm no foul." she says passively. Derek doesn't move, but the tension in his shoulders eases about a thousand percent. 

"Where is your dad now?" Derek asks. Stiles looks uneasy suddenly. 

"He went with Ms. McCall to Mr. Argent's room." he groans. "They're going to...talk." he says as if he doesn't quite believe it. Derek sighs, looks at Cora. 

"Come on Stiles, we're going to go talk to them ourselves." Stiles is wide-eyed. His entire body screams 'I would rather do _not that_ , please'. Derek briefly considers throwing him over his shoulder, but decides that would be overkill. Instead, he walks out the door, expecting that Stiles will follow after him. 

Derek is just about to turn around because - which room is this all happening in again - when Stiles is suddenly beside him looking mightily displeased. He looks at Derek like he's dumb. "Room 514, buddy." he says, before patting Derek nicely on the shoulder. Laura snickers from his other side. They walk in a companionable silence for a little, their steps slow and measured - neither Derek nor Stiles wants to do this - when Stiles frowns thoughtfully. 

"Where is Lydia anyway?" Stiles asks suddenly. Derek's eyes widen. His pace picks up and he gestures for Stiles to do the same. 

"I sent her to Chris Argent's room." Stiles makes an _oh dear lord_ face and starts powerwalking his way to room 514. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

As Lydia reluctantly made her way to Chris Argent's room, she couldn't help but dwell on the fact that this night had not been going as she'd planned. Not even close. It started with that stupid recital, it continued with her almost strangling (she reached up to touch her neck at that, the bruise still bright and clearly visible), and now they were at the hospital and she was seeing dead Peter Hale. 

She needs to stop going over the events of tonight in her head. It's not exactly doing wonders for her sanity. So she speeds up, the click-clack-click of her shoes on the tiles of the hospital floor the most soothing sound she's heard all night. 

She gets to Chris Argent's room in no time, pausing when she realizes she never asked which room he was in. Peter seems to have the same thought. 

"You do some spooky shit." he reminds her. She shrugs because, _she does some spooky shit_ , and walks in to the room. 

Allison's father was laid up in his bed, passed out. The monitors were beeping consistently and Lydia took a seat next to the bed. So much for updating Chris Argent. 

"Wanna play never have I ever?" Peter asks suddenly. Lydia just looks at him. 

"No." she says. 

"Never have I ever dated a murderous lizard-man," he says. "Drink." he was grinning now. She stares at him, considers ignoring him. She starts inspecting her nails as if she were going to. 

"Never have I ever been set on fire." she says smugly. She raises her eyebrow pointedly. "Drink." Peter hmmmm's and pantomimes taking a shot. 

"Never have I _ever_ been a Mean Girl stereotype." Peter says with a snicker. Lydia is unimpressed. She is much too smart to be a Mean Girl. 

"Were I a Mean Girl," she begins, "My Burn Book would have much wittier, more scalding burns." She says prettily, before wobbling a bit because _Peter Hale has watched Mean Girls_. She's so flabbergasted by this revelation that she almost forgets it is her turn. 

"Never have I ever had such an ugly Alpha wolf form." she says. That one definitely would have gone in the burn book, she decides. Peter looks disgruntled for half a second before forging ahead. 

"Never have I ever invited drag queens to my birthday party." he says, but Lydia suddenly turns her full focus on him. 

"Stiles invited them. You're getting sloppy." Lydia flashed her teeth in a very smug smile. He opens his mouth, but closes it when Melissa McCall walks in. She stares at Lydia for a moment before offering her another smile. 

"I've got to check his vitals." she offers as explanation. Lydia nods thoughtfully. She is surprised when the Sheriff walks in not a moment later. Lydia narrows her eyes in suspicion as the Sheriff glances towards her and then towards Melissa. 

"Does the Sheriff have to check his vitals too?" Lydia asks pointedly. Parents. They always thought they were so subtle. Melissa McCall had the grace to look embarrassed. 

Chris Argent is of course awake now. He looks uneasily from Melissa McCall to Sheriff Stilinski. Lydia can sympathize. 

"So. Werewolves." the Sheriff starts, his eyes locked on Chris. Mr. Argent looks at Lydia. Lydia looks at Peter. Peter just laughs. 

"Never have I ever had to have this conversation with the Sheriff." He's laughing harder now. Lydia bites back a grin, because now the Sheriff is looking at her. And she's about to have to have this conversation. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

They've just reached the door when Derek grabs Stiles' arm. There are loud voices coming from inside. Stiles inches forward again and Derek goes to pull him back but Stiles says 

"I wanna hear too! No werewolf senses for this guy!" he huffs as he opens the door a quarter of the way. Derek is surprised no one within the room notices, but whatever is happening in there is distracting everyone involved. 

The voices immediately become less warped and more clear with the open door. Derek is on one side of the door, Stiles is on the other. Laura is standing right in the opening, blatantly watching the proceedings. 

"I'm sorry you had to find out this way, John." That's Chris Argent of course. His sincerity is so real. It's also slightly condescending in the way Chris Argent always accidentally is. Derek wants to bang his head against the wall. 

Laura has a second to turn towards Derek. "The Sheriff looks pissed." she says. But then Derek hears exactly how pissed. 

"You're sorry? You've been running around knowing about these things for how long? You've known _my son_ was running around knowing about these things for how long?" That's the Sheriff. He's sincere too. His is a little more intimidating. Derek looks at Stiles who sort of silently giggles. Apparently he enjoys it when Chris Argent gets a _stern talking to_. 

But the Sheriff isn't finished. "Melissa has only known about this for a little, and she's had to deal with it on her own. And from what she's told me that Scott and Stiles and the Lahey kid have told her, your family has been going around trying to _kill_ our children?" 

"That's not exactly-" Chris begins at the same time Melissa says, "Scott said Chris-" but both get cut off when there's suddenly Lydia. 

"You had sex with Ms. McCall?" She screeches. There's immediate and deafening silence and Derek is trying to figure out _who_ had sex with Ms. McCall like it's a game of Clue. Derek bites his cheek to keep from giggling in a very uncharacteristic way when the thought _It was the Sheriff with the candlestick in the billiard room_ flashes through his mind. Derek thinks if _he's_ feeling this awkward, the people in the room must be going through hell. 

Stiles must be going through some similar circumstance because Derek notices he is beet red and practically shivering with suppressed amusement. Laura clears things up for Derek. 

"Lydia isn't looking at either of them. She's looking at the window. She looks disgusted. Like..." Like she just found out their Uncle had sex with Scott's mom. Derek winces at that. 

"Lydia, who are you talking to?" Melissa asks gently, but Derek can hear the utter shock and embarassment in her voice. She must be blushing from head to toe. 

"Peter Hale. Or. The ghost of Peter Hale." Lydia answers honestly. 

"Peter Hale is alive." Chris Argent says right before Melissa McCall practically squawks in annoyance. 

"You don't get many chances when you work nights at the hospital and raise a teenage boy on your off time." She says, defensively. Laura literally bursts into laughter at that. 

"I like this lady." She says, grinning. But Lydia is continuing now. 

"This is not That Peter, this is This Peter. Something happened - at the warehouse - it, I see Peter everywhere, even when no one else sees Peter anywhere. And - _uggghhhhh_ \- the English language is really failing me here." Lydia rambles before taking a deep breath. 

Derek thinks she is about to tell everyone everything. Derek thinks that's his cue. Apparently Stiles agrees. They both walk into the room at the same time, briefly having to awkwardly shuffle through the doorway together. 

"Oh thank god." Lydia says. 

The three parents in the room glance over at them. All dark looks, Derek notices. 

"How's Scott?" Melissa asks curiously. Stiles chokes and so Derek answers for him. 

"He left to find Isaac and Allison." he says defensively. The dark looks return. 

"Where's Allison?" Chris Argent asks. Derek could have sworn he sent Lydia in here earlier to update the man. He shoots her a look. She flashes him a smile as if to say, _I've got my own problems, deal with it_. Derek is officially exhausted, at this point. 

"Where's Allison?" Chris Argent repeats. Melissa is still glaring. 

"And Isaac?" she interjects. Derek looks at her then. Sniffs the air at that. There's so much worry and anxiety flooding the room, but Derek is surprised to think maybe a little of the angst coming off of Scott's mom is reserved for his beta. He can't help but be pleased. He answers her first. 

"Isaac is in the woods looking for Allison. She ran off." he says, his tone at its most soothing. No one looks soothed at all. Oh well. He tried. Stiles decides to take over from here. 

"Okay, listen Adult People. Well. Mama McCall." At this, Melissa shoots a glance at the Sheriff and Chris Argent, looking a little betrayed. Stiles continues though. 

"Dad, Mr. Argent, you were there at the warehouse when the darach exploded into bullets - because that makes sense - and I know you were pretty out of it Mr. Argent, what with some of the said bullets whizzing past and through you and Scott." 

Melissa flinches, looks even more grouchy. Stiles smiles apologetically at her but she gestures for him to continue. 

"The darach - Ms. Blake - _summoned_ something. It ran towards Lydia, who was with Derek, Allison, and Isaac. My dad and I were with Peter behind some junk, taking cover from the bullets." Melissa and Chris look like they want to ask _what_ exactly the English teacher summoned so Stiles hurriedly pushes forward. 

"Ms. Blake summoned a barghest." Chris inhales sharply because - _of course_ he'd know what that was. But Melissa McCall is still looking confused. 

"A barghest is a faerie spirit that-," Stiles starts, taking a deep breath. 

"Should have killed them all." Ms. Blake finishes. She's standing at the door. She looks absolutely livid. There's a flurry of movement all of a sudden. There's growling (Derek), weapons drawn (Chris Argent, Sheriff Stilinski), and someone calling Ms. Blake The Wicked Bitch of the West (Stiles, of course). But Lydia, who had been pushed behind Derek and Stiles pushes her way forward. 

"LIsten here," she begins, and Ms. Blake raises one perfectly scultped eyebrow. "I'm tired of listening to this asshole-" Lydia gestures to the left of her where absolutely no one can be seen. "So if you could just take back whatever it is that you did, that'd be _terrific_." she finishes with a glare. 

Ms. Blake just looks confused. Her face smooths of even that after a moment, however. "Were you not listening to a word I said, Lydia?" she asks condescendingly. 

"The barghest should have killed you. You. Should. Be. Dead." Derek tenses, and he can tell Chris Argent and the Sheriff have their guns steady and ready to fire. Derek wonders why they haven't learned from the warehouse yet. 

"Well it didn't!" Lydia growls. She actually walks up to Ms. Blake and prods her in the chest. "I'm still alive! And now I can't get away from Dead Peter Hale! Except I am also seeing Live Peter Hale!" She's breathing heavily now, her finger still pushed into the darach's chest. Ms. Blake lowers her head to take one, long look at that finger. 

"Lydia," Stiles begins. "Maybe you should-" But of course it's too late already. The crowded room is thrown into chaos when Ms. Blake rushes Chris Argent's bed. She turns it over and throws it - as Chris Argent tumbles from it- at the Sheriff, Stiles, and Ms. McCall. The Sheriff tackles them to the ground and the bed shoots over them and out the window to the ground below. Derek is already halfway to Lydia when Laura screams "Derek duck!" So he does. He feels the air shift as a fist swings where his head would have been. He's shifting to the right when Laura screams "Left!" 

Left it is. Derek notices that the wall to the right of him is suddenly scorched. There's a scream of frustration and Derek takes the time to wonder why no one has come into the room from all the commotion. He makes it to Lydia and grabs her, pushing her behind him. He turns as Laura yells "Duck!" so his movement turns into a crouch. The darach again misses him by inches. But this time he shifts upwards, ready. 

Derek Hale uppercuts _the fuck_ out of the Darach. He is pretty pleased about it. She goes flying into the ceiling before falling to the ground, slightly dazed. Blood is leaking from her mouth and chin and she is enraged. The humans in the room wisely stay back. 

"I don't know how you're doing this, but I'm going to put an end to it. She begins to chant and Derek has a second to think _not again_ , but Lydia is suddenly running past him screaming "I am so _over_ this!" 

Derek lunges after her, grabbing her around the middle as Ms. Blake shoots something from her fingertips at them. Derek whips Lydia around and takes the full blast of it on his back. They fly towards the door and Derek turns in the air, using his already damaged back to smash through the door and into the hallway. 

Everything is spinning and Laura is suddenly right in front of his face. She's saying something but he can't understand her. He looks from side to side to clear his head and sees the reason no one has run screaming into the room to ask _what the hell_ was going on. For as far as he can see, there are people sprawled passed out on the floor. 

Lydia is beside him, just as dazed when there's a sudden _whoosh_ and now Ms. Blake is beside him holding Lydia against the wall by her throat. Lydia is scratching at her hands and Derek reaches out to stop them but only manages to get a kick in the head for his troubles. He hits the ground and just lays there. 

He thinks he should get up, should stop Jennifer - Ms. Blake, _the darach_ \- from killing Lydia. He's having so much trouble now. He just wants to let the darkness take him. He knows it's trying to. He feels like he's been laying on the ground for hours but he knows it's only been a couple seconds. 

Things behind him get a lot louder and he thinks Lydia might be screaming now. He really can't bring himself to care. His head is spinning, he can't concentrate on anything. Until he can. Until a pair of glowing red eyes catch his. Everything is blurry except for those eyes but they steady his vision and he finds his senses coming back to him. He groans, shudders as he tries to push himself off the ground. 

"Get up, Derek." The eyes say, and he freezes. Because that's not Laura. 

"Mom?" he asks softly. Talia Hale is kneeling calmly in front of him. She puts a hand on his and he _swears_ he can feel it, feel the thrill of it run right into his fingers and up his arm, straight into his heart. "Protect what is yours, Alpha." she says steadily. Derek grits his teeth. He stands up. Lydia _is_ screaming, it turns out. 

Laura is wide-eyed, looking back and forth from him to their mother. Talia Hale smiles softly at her daughter, almost hesitantly and Laura bursts into tears. As important as it is, as utterly _momentous_ as it is, it is secondary. Derek has to protect what is his. 

So Derek takes both his hands and grips the hand that is holding Lydia by the throat and pries it off the girl. The screaming immediately cuts off. 

The darach - now all scars and burns - snarls as it turns towards him. He grabs its arm and snaps it in half. The darach screams in pain, raises its other hand to strike him but Derek just grabs that too. One hand on that arm, the other on the darach's throat, Derek calmly walks it back into Chris Argent's room. 

Talia and Laura follow him the entire way, flanking him as he drags Ms. Blake past a shaking Ms. McCall. Chris Argent is watching him carefully beside the Sheriff who is wide-eyed but similarly unmoving. He squeezes and the throat beneath his hand shifts under the pressure, He squeezes harder and it explodes beneath his fingers in a disgusting display of gore and - Derek sniffs - mistletoe. He doesn't care. 

The darach is gurgling beneath his fingers. He stares at her, makes eye contact with her. She looks afraid, but still angry. Derek throws her out the window. Halfway to the ground she explodes into a cloud of moths and vanishes into the night. Derek wants to feel exhausted, but instead he simply feels the breadth of his strength. He is an alpha. That _means_ something. 

"Julia was always foolish. She made the perfect emissary for Kali's pack, she always told Kali exactly what she wanted to hear. A good advisor knows when to advise caution." His mother speaks quietly from beside him as he stares out the window. 

"Derek," Stiles calls from behind him. His mother's lips twitch. 

"Good advice comes in many forms, from many surprising places. Don't push it away." she says firmly. There's a hand on his shoulder and he lets it turn him around. He lets it pull him away from the broken window. He looks back at his mother and she's smiling - no - she's grinning at him now. He looks at Stiles who is firmly pulling at him. 

"Good job dude" Stiles says, awed, almost reverential. Yeah. It was, he thinks. And suddenly he's just a very tired alpha. So he tells Stiles that. 

"I'm tired." he says. Stiles rolls his eyes. "That's okay, man." Derek doesn't think Stiles understands. So he passes out. He'll explain later. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Lydia watches Derek hit the ground and frowns. Melissa McCall is getting up and running to him. Stiles is calling his name. The Sheriff and Chris are sharing a look. Lydia starts to feel a little strange. There's a pull in her stomach and she places her hands there. 

"You're not going to throw up are you?" Peter asks curiously. She ignores him. 

"Stiles," she says. But things are too loud. There is too much commotion. No one is listening to her. She's so tired all of a sudden. It's as though all of her energy has been depleted. She's so exhausted. She's so tired. 

"Stiles." she tries to be louder. They're still not paying attention to her. She takes a step forward. Another. But then she's on her knees. Peter is giving her crazy **(crazier?)** eye now. She's breathing deeply - in and out, she has to remind herself - when Peter suddenly kneels down beside her. 

"So this can't be good." he says to absolutely no one, because Lydia certainly isn't in the position to respond. Her eyes flutter shut and her head spins as she collapses onto the ground. Distantly, she hears someone call her name. She thinks it's Stiles. _About time_ , she thinks as she passes out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I ended up going back to this chapter and putting a lot more work than intended, I don't actually have Chapter Six finished yet, in fact, I think what I do have I'm going to scrap and redo entirely. So expect it to take awhile for the next update. With any luck, I'll get super excited writing the next chapter that I'll slam out the one after that too. As always, thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Like there is a black hole behind you, pulling at your essence. Like the darkness is trying to consume you." It's suitably frightening enough that Isaac shifts suddenly in his seat, that Allison throws a look at her aunt who is raising her hands in a harmless gesture.
> 
> "I'm not trying to take you anywhere, doll." she says at Allison's look.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the wait is over! Chapter Six! Hope you enjoy it! I had fun writing this one. I'm starting to like Kate Argent, horror of horrors!

### Chapter Six - When The Night Holds But Darker Souls 

##### (Or: I dare you to whisper to this dog.) 

Scott. Scott. Scott. Scott. It was practically the beat of Isaac's heart. He, Allison, and Peter were walking steadily towards the Animal Clinic. The original plan had been to go to the hospital straight away, but the Animal Clinic was much closer, so Isaac finds he doesn't mind. He pulls out his phone and looks thoughtfully at it. 

Ever since finding Allison, Isaac's brain had been flashing _Scott_ nonstop. He can't stop thinking about him, visualizing him, wishing he were here. It made sense to Isaac then, that in the middle of all of this unavoidable Scott, the man in question would call. Of course he would.  


Isaac smiles slightly, tracing the screen on his phone 

"You've got it bad, man." Erica says with amusement. Isaac pretends he doesn't hear the worry. Not right now. Instead, he thinks back to the phone call he just had. 

_His phone starts to trill some generic ringtone Isaac thinks it came set with._

 _"Hello?" Isaac says quietly. There is a sigh of breath that sounds something like relief on the other end._

 _

"Hey." Scott says. Isaac wants to frown, because Scott is using his Complicated Voice. Not that it causes complications for Scott, but, it sure complicates Isaac's life. 

"What - how are you....doing?" Isaac asks stupidly. Scott seems to get it though, because Isaac can practically hear his grin. 

"Good, just chillin." Scott says. "I was thinking I could actually come chill with you." he adds. Isaac definitely isn't smiling like a dope, that is not a thing, for sure. 

"Yeah. Cool." Isaac says. He thinks he may be an idiot. Or possibly an embarrassing little girl with a crush. Probably some hybrid of the two. Yeah. 

"Cool." Scott says happily before hanging up. Isaac looks at his phone in confusion. Scott didn't even- 

His phone starts ringing again. Isaac picks it up with a hesitant smirk. 

"Hello?" he says awkwardly. Scott actually clears his throat over the phone. 

"I...uhh..I forgot to ask...uhh." Scott mumbles. Isaac decides to take pity on him. 

"We're about thirty-five minutes away from the hospital." Isaac can almost see Scott blinking in confusion at that. "Walking with humans is slow going." he adds, shooting Allison an apologetic look, not that it mattered. She doesn't seem to be paying any attention to him. 

"Oh. Right. That's good." And that's the moment Isaac realizes Scott hadn't asked about Allison the entire conversation. He thinks maybe Scott realizes it too. 

Isaac feels something suspiciously like a swoon trying to break free. As it is, Peter is already clucking knowingly at him. Isaac takes a discreet sniff, and, yep. He smells like that. That is him. He sighs. 

"Hey you know - go to Deaton's. I - I can pick you up from there and we can all drive back here." Scott says helpfully. Isaac grins at that. 

"I don't think we can all fit on your bike, Scott." he says seriously - definitely not flirtatiously. Erica shoots him a strange look. Thankfully, Allison still seems preoccupied with who Isaac presumes is her aunt, judging from the side of the conversation he can hear, and the way she is blushing. 

"I may or may not have just borrowed Stiles' jeep." Scott says guiltily. Isaac gapes. 

"Oh man. You didn't." 

"Yeah. I totally did." Scott's seems just as shocked about it. "Let's just hurry this up." he says, sounding like he is legitimately afraid of what Stiles will do to him. Isaac thinks maybe he is. 

"I'll see you at Deaton's." Isaac says helpfully. 

"See you." Scott says before hanging up. Isaac let out a long rattling breath. Erica is still staring at him. 

"Isaac," she says tentatively. He just raises his eyebrow at her, he still remembers what it sounds like when Erica is getting ready to call him out on something. 

"Are you in love with McCall?" she asks. Isaac chokes, means to respond, but suddenly embarassment is spiking from where Allison is walking. 

"Scott's not like that!" Allison pretty much growls, lost in conversation with her dead aunt. Isaac tenses, the thought too close to his own fears. Logically, he knows Allison didn't hear Erica's question. Knows she has no idea what is going through Isaac's head. That doesn't stop him from feeling like a bucket of cold water had been poured over all over him. 

He shakes his head and leaves Erica's question unanswered, and she grunts unhappily. He thinks he is going to wallow in this for the rest of the walk when his phone buzzes silently. He pulls it out. 

**I'm glad you're alright. I need you to not get hurt anymore, okay?**

And the text bounces straight from Isaac's toes to his heart where it sits and stays awhile, before flushing his cheeks with the most idiotic, and definitely embarrassing little girl-like blush. Erica says nothing, Isaac thinks he just answered her question.

_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

"Scott ever cheated on you?" Kate has been talking nonstop since the forest. Allison thinks that for the most part, Kate is sincerely curious about her niece's life, but it doesn't change the fact that Kate is equal parts comforting and ruthless. It is a symptom of the pain-pleasure method of dealing with the world that the Argents have honed so well over the years, Allison thinks. 

"Scott's not like that!" Allison says firmly. She has been so caught up with her aunt that she's been ignoring Peter and Isaac this entire time. She knows Isaac was just talking on his phone, she knows Peter has been walking quietly with his hands in his pockets, utterly _too_ calm to _not_ be plotting something nefarious. She just can't be bothered to pay attention right now. Her aunt is driving her up the wall. 

"I'm just curious, Allison." Kate's interest for the last ten minutes has laid solely in Scott. "You can never be sure with werewolves, they're a touchy bunch." Kate grins before throwing Isaac a look. Allison sees the way Isaac is hunched in on himself, his arms wrapped insecurely around his waist and his head bowed to look steadily at the ground as he walks. 

"Well. Most of them." Kate says, clearly as mystified as Allison about Isaac's demeanor. But then her aunt is moving on, thankfully to less Scott-related topics. 

"So how's my grave look? Sexy? Cheesy? Be honest." Kate's look is so curiously amused that Allison can't help but laugh. 

"It's very tastefully done." she says. Kate just groans. 

"That's Gerard for you." Kate says as she rolls her eyes. Allison wants to ask about Gerard then, about what he was like when her father and aunt were children. Isaac speaks before she can though. 

"Scott called a couple minutes ago, he has Stiles' jeep, he's going to pick us up at Deaton's." Isaac mumbles this, but his anxiety seems tamped down upon, and his eyes are shining more fully. Allison is glad to see it, she thinks it looks good on him. He's much prettier when he's happy. Allison groans silently to herself and shakes her head at that. Werewolves should be required to be less attractive, she thinks. But then another thought pulls at her mind. 

"Does _Stiles_ know he has _Stiles'_ jeep?" she asks. Isaac replies with a sheepish grin and Allison knows that things were much more serious than she first thought. 

"Hope he knows what he's getting into." she settles for saying. Isaac laughs at that before agreeing with her. 

"Yeah, it was a pretty reckless move on his part." Isaac admits with a snicker. Allison finds herself smiling as she pictures Stiles chewing Scott out over stealing his jeep. 

"Teenagers are so disgusting." Kate says abruptly. 

"Be nice!" Isaac says, and Allison guesses he's talking to Erica. She returns her gaze to her aunt. 

"Why?" Allison asks seriously. It throws Kate off for a moment, and she considers her answer. But not for that long. 

"You're practically a pile of depression and lust. Life isn't this hard. I mean, _yeah_ , it is, but - you bitches have got _angst_." Allison frowns at the answer. 

"I'm not angsty." Allison says defensively. Kate just rolls her eyes. 

"Scott McCall." her aunt says. Allison frown deepens. What does Scott have to do with anything? They broke up, things are just too - it's too much, there is too much, with her mother, and Gerard, and now the Alpha Pack and the darach. He said he'd wait for her, but she was being honest when she told him not to. 

But he was willing to wait. Allison imagines a future with him, with children - possibly wolfy children - and she sighs. She thinks about what her mother would have to say about having werewolf grandchildren. She wonders if her mom would love them. Allison would love them, she knows, but it just isn't the time right now, things are just not right. Especially with the stray thoughts she's been getting every time she looks at Isaac, too-pretty, all-cheekbones, always-sad Isaac. It's all too complicated. It's- 

"Literally, if you could see your face right now." Kate Argent's voice draws her from her thoughts. Allison looks up, uncomprehending. Kate taps her nose and smirks. 

"Angst, girly, it'll give you wrinkles."  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

As they finish walking to the Animal Clinic, Peter does his best to enlighten them on the situation, going over what Stiles said, and what Peter saw back at the warehouse. It's a little strange and a bit confusing and outlandish, and when Isaac glances at Allison, he finds her expression mirrors his. Isaac is not worried, though, Scott is on his way, they'll figure it out. 

Thinking of Scott sends a thrill down his spine and it's almost enough to make Isaac growl. When has he ever been this _giddy_? He's known he's liked Scott like this for awhile now, he's never - it's never - this is new and unsettling. He must be an open book, because Peter starts talking just as Scott's face swims into Isaac's mind for the umpteenth time. 

"As much as I would love to wait on Scott to get here, and witness the reunion, I must tend to something." Peter says with a grin. Isaac isn't sure if he wants to ask _What do you have to tend to? or What reunion? With who?_

Peter, as always, has a knowing look on his face. Isaac thinks it is bullshit. Peter can't know everything all the time, even if he tries to seem that way. So Isaac settles for an ambivalent shrug. Isaac thinks Peter is sad he doesn't take the bait. Allison on the other hand decides to pick up the slack. 

"What are you planning? What reunion?" she asks, immediately making Peter hum with satisfaction. He opens his mouth to respond, but Allison is saved from the horror of having Peter Hale radiate vague smug at her when there is a sound from behind them. 

Isaac whirls around, claws at the ready as Allison follows, already wielding her knives. 

"Hello Isaac, Allison." Dr. Deaton says calmly. Always calm. Isaac thinks it'd be inspiring if it wasn't so offputting. He thinks maybe Deaton likes it that way. 

"Hey." Isaac responds while Allison gives Deaton a small smile. Peter seems much less smug. Which sort of makes Isaac smug. So much smug. Allison seems to notice the same thing and they share a silent devious look. 

"Man, everything is so fucked up now." Erica comments. Isaac barely pays attention to her though, because Deaton turns towards where Erica is standing and raises a single eyebrow. 

"Maybe you should come inside." he says. Isaac is stunned. Did Deaton just? Did. Did he? _What?_

Deaton looks at Allison, looks at the space beside her as though he is completely unimpressed. It is a completely normal gesture except for the way it makes Allison stiffen in shock. 

So they follow Deaton into the clinic. Well, Allison and Isaac do. Peter politely declines. No one's that disappointed. Peter least of all. Isaac can tell that Deaton _creeps_ Peter out.  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

"So you're telling me this guy doesn't just creep you the hell out?" Kate Argent says skeptically. Allison bites her lip. 

"Maybe a little." she says, causing Kate to nod in satisfaction, her _I thought so_ , unspoken but completely understood. Deaton leads them into his back office and then just stands there, patiently. Isaac slouches into a chair and Allison is reminded of the fact that he's familiar with this place now. She waits for Deaton to say something, but he doesn't. Well Allison isn't going to be the first to break, she decides. 

"Can you see Erica?" Isaac, it seems, is the one. Deaton rubs his chin thoughtfully as he carefully crafts his response. 

"Each person has an aura of sorts." Deaton says mysteriously. Allison thinks she should snag a chair. She thinks it's going to be a long talk. Isaac is listening intently, though. He seems to be honestly interested. Allison, at this point, would just like to get to _the_ point. 

"It is a rough outline of them as an individual. Certain people see this in different ways. Many describe an aura in color, but it is a bit of a pale comparison if I may say so." At this Deaton grins, as though he's just told a very funny joke. 

"Werewolves," he says, "They are attuned to this aura via scent and the sense of _other_ that traces their awareness." Deaton smiles at Isaac who nods in sort-of-understanding. 

"Myself and those like me view auras a bit differently." Allison doesn't bother asking how they view auras, she's not interested in all of this _Aura Theory_. 

"How do our auras look?" she asks instead. Deaton frowns at her slightly, but answers her question. 

"Like there is a black hole behind you, pulling at your essence. Like the darkness is trying to consume you." It's suitably frightening enough that Isaac shifts suddenly in his seat, that Allison throws a look at her aunt who is raising her hands in a harmless gesture. 

"I'm not trying to take you anywhere, doll." she says at Allison's look. 

"Explain to me what happened to you, exactly." Deaton is saying. Isaac launches into an explanation but Allison can't help but tune him out. She remembers the barghest in the warehouse. Remembers how it overtook them. Apparently this is what Isaac tells Deaton too, because she comes back to reality when she finds the vet staring at her. 

"You should both be dead." he says. "Barghests do not generally show mercy on their victims. And the few instances where someone has escaped death after coming into contact with a barghest - they do not end well." Allison doesn't like the way that sounds. 

"Historically speaking, whenever the barrier between life and death is bent, broken, or otherwise impaired - it does not lead to good things." Deaton says. Allison thinks of Peter. How Lydia was able to resurrect him - albeit against her will. Isaac seems to be thinking the same thing. 

"How did Peter get Lydia to bring him back then?" Isaac's face is pinched in thought. Deaton opens his mouth to respond, but Isaac continues. "Is it because she is a banshee?" he asks. Deaton looks visibly startled. Allison forgets that Deaton doesn't magically know everything all the time. 

"That's interesting." he says. 

"Ugh, this guy freaks me out." Kate Argent says. Allison would respond, but there's noise coming from out front, and suddenly Scott is in the room with them, wide smile on his face. 

"Hey Deaton," Scott says, turning his smile on the vet. Deaton points his own very serene smile at Scott, replying in kind. Scott ambles over to Isaac and gives him a critical eye. 

"Weren't you wounded?" Scott asks seriously. Isaac just gives him an unimpressed looked. 

"Weren't you?" Scott just grins and shrugs his shoulders. 

"I got better." he says, causing Isaac to snort and poke him in the stomach. Hard. Scott winces. 

"Mostly." he adds. Isaac nods affably and doesn't push the subject further. Scott rests his hand on the taller boy's shoulder, eliciting a shy smile from him. 

"Well aren't they chummy." Kate says pointedly. Allison looks at her from the corner of her eyes but doesn't respond. She doesn't so much as twitch. Allison is so in control of her body that her heart doesn't even stutter, at least until Scott looks at her, his face still lit with his patented sunny smile. 

Allison doesn't dwell on the fact that it dims _ever so slightly_ when he meets her eyes. It becomes something awkward and strained, only a little, but enough to make her chest feel heavy. Isaac says something and Scott breaks the look to listen to him, but the damage is done. Allison focuses on this feeling in her chest. It's become icy and dark and it feels like it's spreading. 

She pushes off from where she's leaned against a counter and sort of stumbles. Kate is looking at her with worry. 

"Allison what's wrong?" But it's not Kate that says that. Scott it seems, is still so tuned into her that he notices something is off. She feels very heavy all of a sudden. 

"I feel so heavy." she says. She sounds drunk even to her own ears. Isaac stands from the chair abruptly, and it skids across the floor and into the wall. Isaac seems startled at his own strength. 

"I feel weird. Something isn't right." he says, though his words are slightly slurred. Scott is looking back and forth between the two of them helplessly while Deaton moves to steady her. 

"I'm not doing this, Allison." Kate says. Allison believes her, but. 

She goes limp in Deaton's arms and distantly notices that Isaac is on all fours panting, practically keening. 

"Deaton, what's wrong with them?" Scott asks, and he seems so panicked. Allison answers for the vet though. 

"It feels like dying." she says. She thinks it's a pretty dramatic thing to say, but she's feeling pretty dramatic just now. 

"Not there again. I don't go in there anymore." she thinks she hears Isaac say. He seems confused and in pain. She forces her head up and looks at Scott, she knows he remembers _that_ freezer. She has a second of painful clarity. 

"Lydia and Derek." she grits out. She wants to stand up. She wants to drive to the hospital and see her dad. She wants to make sure Lydia is okay. 

She just passes out instead.  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

"Isaac," someone is calling his name. They sound afraid. "Isaac." 

He opens his eyes, but thinks he shouldn't have. He's in the desert and there's blood and guts all around him, and it looks like a bomb went off. He realizes a bomb probably _did_ go off. 

"Isaac." the voice sounds so familiar to him, but he looks around and can't see anyone. There's another explosion in the distance and Isaac can hear gunfire. It sounds like it's getting closer. He has a moment to realize where he is, and _impossible_. But then the voice is calling his name, and he knows now why he couldn't find Camden in the first place. He's half covered by something that looks like a piece of a _building_. He's coughing up blood. A lot of it. 

"Camden!" Isaac screams and runs to him. Camden doesn't see him though. Stares straight through him, in fact. 

"I'm sorry." Camden says, and then repeats it. Over and over and over and over. Isaac's eyes are wide and he's on his knees. 

"No, no, no." Isaac says. Camden coughs, so much blood. There are more explosions in the distance now, the gunfire is still getting louder. A bullet whizzes over Isaac's head and into the sand beside Camden. Isaac flinches, but Camden doesn't even move. Has stopped moving, in fact. Isaac stumbles back. This can't be real. Camden has been dead for years. 

There's movement behind him and Isaac turns. There is a shadow that ripples into a more tangible shadow. Isaac realizes it isn't a shadow, but a big black dog. 

_You are mine to kill_ , the dog says without speaking. Isaac stands, suddenly angry. He is his own. Scott has taught him that, and even if he doesn't quite believe it yet, he trusts Scott. The dog seems to read these thoughts because it suddenly sits back on its haunches. Isaac thinks it might be laughing. 

_You are mine_ , it repeats. Isaac frowns, summons his claws with the flick of a wrist. Only they don't come out. The dog tilts its head. 

"You didn't think this would just be happy reunions with dead friends, did you, Isaac?" The dog doesn't say that. The dog doesn't sound like that, but Isaac knows who does. He turns slowly, so slowly, he can't even help the flinch of pain and rage that staples itself onto his face as he lays his eyes on his father for the first time in what feels like centuries. 

"I think I raised you better than that, son." 

_You are mine_ , the dog reminds him. Fear blooms in his chest. He falters. He wonders if this is hell. 

"Not yet." his father says. Isaac thinks the smile his father flashes him might be a little sad. He changes his mind when his dad backhands him onto the ground and the world falls away. All he can see is darkness. All he can hear are chains clinking into place. 

_This_ is hell.  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

There's fire everywhere. Burning and screaming and death. Allison isn't sure what this is untill there's a blur that jets past her. It's black haired and burning and it breaks through a window. There is gunfire and laughter and Allison watches her aunt decapitate the blur who is no longer a blur, but actually a man that looks suspiciously similar to Derek. 

Allison feels sick. 

She walks slowly, in a daze, through the Hale House as it burns down around her. There are screams everywhere - fire burns fast, but not fast enough - though she does not linger, she does not open a single door. 

"Cora!" she hears someone scream, and that gives her pause. She turns, opens the door to her right, noting the handle is cool to her touch. There is a small girl in the corner of the room, completely wolfed out and surrounded by so many flames. Allison thinks Cora Hale has never looked so feral in her entire life, not even in the bank vault. 

There is an older woman entering from what looks like the doorway to a bathroom. "Cora," the woman says again. "Calm down." she commands. Cora is inconsolable though. The woman gets closer, her eyes are alpha-red, but there is so much emotion in them that it borders on _more_. There is a depth to her voice when she speaks again. 

"Cora. Calm down." and Cora does. Her features ripple, and there is just a girl surrounded by fire now. There is another crash, the house whines from above them, and the woman blurs. She is atop Cora, crouched into a physical shield as the ceiling caves, showering them in fiery debris. 

Embers drift around Allison like snowflakes. The floor ripples, and a shadow emerges. Allison watches mutely as the barghest appears before her. 

_You are mine to kill_ , it tells her. Allison wants to shrug, because her family did this, so what does it matter, she might even deserve it. Instead, she stiffens her shoulders. 

"You couldn't kill me the first time." she says offhandedly. The shadowy dog doesn't seem pleased at that. 

_Death is the only truth_ , it tells her. She looks at it then. 

"That means you can die too." she says. The barghest snarls at that. Their surroundings warp suddenly, things are moving fast, everything is changing. Allison has a moment of vertigo before her surroundings right themselves. She shudders suddenly. 

Because there is her mother sitting quietly on a bed with her father. There is a knife in her hands and her eyes are glowing. Allison falls to her knees. 

_You are mine_ , the dog repeats. But to Allison, it sounds a lot like her mother killing herself.  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

He thinks it's strange that it would be raining inside of the freezer. Except when he thinks about it, when his mind cools from the fire-hot rage and molten panic that were flooding his veins just seconds ago, Isaac realizes there is no freezer. He has just one moment to be relieved before he hears his father screaming his name. There is so much fog, Isaac is glad it hides him from his father. 

A flicker in the corner of his eye has him looking behind him. It's Matt. They were friends once, Isaac didn't understand why they stopped until one day a couple months after the whole Gerard Thing, when Scott and Stiles sat him down and explained. He felt guilty, but maybe also a little relieved. He could only handle so much broken, and he had too much as it was already. 

"He's a monster." Matt says, gesturing to his father stumbling around in the distance. The rain and fog must be a pain with his glasses, Isaac thinks idly. Isaac looks past Matt, sees the black dog standing deep in the shadows behind him. 

_Monster_ , it rumbles. But Matt isn't done talking. 

"You're a monster too." he says. Isaac meets his eyes defiantly. 

"I'm not." Isaac says. But Matt just smiles. 

"We'll see." There is a sharp pain in Isaac's abdomen. He grabs at his stomach and goes to lift his shirt only to have claws tear it to pieces. He stares at his hands strangely. These are not his claws. A thump hits the ground behind him and he turns his head to see his tail flicking restlessly behind him. 

"No." he whispers. _No no no_. Matt just laughs. The barghest walks closer, padding silently to stand beside him. 

His skin is hardening into leather-like scales now, and he can feel needle-like fangs pressing against thinning lips. _Kill him_. The thought comes to Isaac from everywhere, as though it is his only reason for existing. _Kill your father. You are mine_. And that's not the barghest, that's Matt. He is his Master, Isaac knows this now. His limbs twitch on their own accord and he's crouching down, arching into an attack stance as his father stumbles ever closer. The barghest is crouched beside him, a deep grumbling growl echoing from its throat. 

_No_ , the dog growls suddenly, drowning out all of Matt's commands, relieving the pressure on Isaac's spine slightly. _You are mine_. And now the pressure is back, two-fold. Isaac looks back at Matt then. The boy is sprawled on the ground, he's blue and unbreathing. He looks- 

_Kill your father_. 

And Isaac moves, leaping onto the side of a building as his father glances at where he was just a moment earlier. His father is saying things, calm at first, _logical_ , Isaac's mind supplies for him. His dad looks up suddenly and Isaac launches himself to the side of another building, out of view. A dark and sibilant hiss echoes out of his mouth and he can see his father tremble. _No_ , Isaac thinks. _No_ , because even without the barghest's control, there is a part of Isaac that thinks _Yes_. Isaac knows, if he is to ever have any hope of being his own person, the answer must always be _No_. Isaac does not want to kill his father. 

But the barghest says _Yes_ , and suddenly he hits the ground. His father catches sight of him and he panics, flees back towards the car. Isaac charges. He hits the door like a mack truck, he can hear his father screaming inside of the car _No, no, no_. They both chant the same mantra. Isaac rips the door off its hinges and flings it into the darkness. Isaac hopes it hits the barghest. 

There is a growl in his mind that informs him that it did not, but the growl spurs him forward and sudenly he is fist deep in his father's stomach. The fear in his eyes is palpable and Isaac's tongue flicks out to taste it - it is delicious. _No, no, no_ , Isaac reels. But his teeth are tearing into the flesh above his father's collar bone, his tail is wrapping around his father's neck. His poison is working but not fast enough. His dad's tortured screams turn into agonized whimpers, but Isaac just tears wider and rends more, _harder_. 

Finally there is silence, but Isaac is not finished yet. His father is not yet dead, judging from the fear still in the older man's eyes. His fist plunges into his chest and rips his father's heart free from it. 

"Isaac?" The face in front of him is Scott's now, bloodied and torn, coughing and dying. The heart in his hand, his _human_ hand, is Scott's. He has a moment to be terrified and revolted and feel just _agony_ , before there is a high-pitched howl behind him. It sounds enraged. The world around him takes on a dream-like quality, and Isaac can feel a hand stroke the back of his neck, nails gently scratching upwards as the hand rises up into his hair and twirls its fingers into the curls there. 

_You're a good boy_ , the hand says. Isaac startles, torn between the bloody picture of Scott dead in front of him, and the soothing movements of the hand behind him. His ears are ringing, faintly, and the world disassembles again before reassembling. The hand disappears, but so does Scott's pained face. 

When he opens his eyes, Scott is back. Only Scott is on top of him now, and he is beneath. He's screaming loudly, he knows. Scott has both of his hands on him, not shaking or choking, but holding. "Isaac," he says. "Isaac." and its suddenly an unending chant on his lips. Vaguely, Isaac realizes they are on a bed, and it seems familiar. This is real, Isaac thinks suddenly. 

"Scott." His voice is cracked and raw, and his throat hurts. His hands travel up Scott's arms, and clench at his shoulders. Scott still looks terrified and Isaac realizes that there is blood in his mouth, because he can taste it. His hands are still gripping Scott's shoulders and he lifts himself up slightly. Scott must realize what he wants because he is suddenly being pulled. 

He hugs Scott tightly, his arms sliding from the other boy's shoulders to latch onto his back. His breathing is pained and rapid, and he wedges his face into Scott's neck, literally clinging with every fiber of his being. 

"I didn't kill him." Isaac reminds himself. Scott doesn't even ask, just strokes his back and keeps a hand at the back of his neck and whispers calm, soothing words. 

"You didn't." Erica says from behind him knowingly. "The kanima did." she says softly. Isaac whimpers, but doesn't say anything - doesn't bother to correct her. 

He wasn't talking about his dad. 

He considers letting himself cry, but thinks better of it. He pushes harder at Scott, as if he's trying to slide inside the other boy's skin. Scott just lowers them back down to the bed, slowly. Isaac is relieved when he doesn't even try to let go or push Isaac away. Isaac twists his head, angles it down and lets the strong beat of Scott's heart sing into his ear. 

"I didn't." he says sleepily, and then pauses, tries to wake himself up. He doesn't want to go back. Scott strokes the back of his head though. 

"It's okay, Deaton looked into some stuff. You can sleep here. Nothing will hurt you, I promise." Scott says. Isaac nods tiredly, incapable of showing the gratitude he feels as he passes back out. He thinks Scott knows though. 

Isaac can hear it in the beat of his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! I'm officially releasing each chapter as I write it now, so there is nothing written for the next chapter yet. I find Derek and Lydia easier to write than Isaac and Allison (probably from how much fun I have with them) so I'm hoping next chapter will pop out more quickly.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is blood on her wrist but she pays it no mind as she tugs the puppy slowly free of the bush. The puppy itself does not fight her, just the opposite. It is completely pliant to her touch as she works on freeing it from its thorny prison. It trusts her, believes that she won't hurt it. This thought creates such an overpowering emotion in her that she finds herself holding back tears, which, _ridiculous_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's taken me so long to update this, this chapter threw me for a doosie and I had to go back and forth a couple times - I really felt like this chapter is the one that sets the direction for where the story is going, so I wanted to be extra careful with it. I like to think of this story as the alternate reality where Teen Wolf has billions of dollars for their budget to do crazy things and kind of even MORE over the top sort of monsters and stories. I'm starting on Chapter 8 today, so, while I won't have anything churned out in the next couple days, this story isn't going to taper off into incompleteness, so have no fear!

### Chapter Seven - A Wound Once Written Becomes A Scar Eternally Read 

##### (Or: I'll take Pop Culture for 1000, Alex.) 

Blue eyes. The first thing Lydia sees when she comes to her senses are blue eyes. They are not the blue of a beautiful sunny sky, and they are not the blue of the so-deep ocean. They are an arctic chill, a promise of ice and cold, they are killing frost. 

They are Jackson's, of course. 

"Lydia." he says. Her lips twitch. This game is easy. 

"Jackson." his face looks pinched. He has that face he gets when she does something to annoy him. She decides to keep the trend going. 

"I'm sleeping with another werewolf now." His eyes narrow. 

"So am I." he says. And, _touché_. She smooths her skirt, it's a tic she can't help right now. She's falling back into old habits, she thinks. 

"Why am I dreaming about you?" he says abruptly. Her face twists, confused. 

"I could ask you the same. This is my dream." she says. He huffs a snooty sigh and Lydia gives him a sketchy eye. She thinks he's thought of a response, but it slides away when a voice comes from beside them both. There is a quick, sharp clap of hands, before said hands pat them both on the shoulder. 

"And baby makes three!" Peter Hale says gleefully. 

"You're not my baby." Lydia says at the same time Jackson mutters "Definitely not _my_ dream." 

"An evil druid, a blind alpha, and a celtic spirit of death walk into a bar." Peter responds cheekily. Lydia groans, but Peter insists on following the joke through. 

'What can I get for you?' the bartender asks. 

'What sort of wines does this establishment have?' the druid asks. 'Do you have anything oak-y?' 

'We only have beer and liquor,' the bartender says. The druid sighs and takes a seat. 

'I'll take a shot, your choice,' the alpha says. So the bartender serves up some tequila.

'This is good,' the alpha says, 'I'll have another.'

'You call the shots,' the bartender says.

The alpha smiles. 'I call 'em as I see 'em,' he says. 

The spirit grins - all fangs - and lights up a cigarette. 'Those'll kill you, you know,' the bartender says, but the spirit just smiles.

'They'll kill you first,' the spirit says.

The bartender shrugs, 'What'll it be?' he asks the spirit. 

'Beer,' the spirit says. 'Wine is bitter and liquor burns, but I can kill a couple beers,' the spirit laughs. 

The joke finished, Peter stares expectantly at them. Jackson opens his mouth to say something undoubtedly scathing, but Lydia beats him to it. 

"Was there a point to that?" she asks. Peter smiles, scratching idly behind his ear. Lydia thinks he looks unimpressed. 

"Yes." Peter smiles, but says no more. 

"I want to wake up now." Jackson says. 

"What's that?" he asks before Lydia can verbally sympathize with him. She turns to look at what he's seeing, and shivers when she does. Black ooze bubbles up from the ground, breaking free and spreading into a puddle. It looks like the stuff that came out of Jackson before he became the kanima, it looks like something that Gerard Argent would puke up. Jackson must make the same connection, because he shudders and moves closer to her. 

The puddle bubbles and hisses, but eventually coalesces into a form. It is the barghest. Terrific. 

_You are a banshee_ , it says neutrally. Peter looks at her then. 

"A banshee! The screaming makes sense now." he practically cheers. Jackson is looking at her strangely, but he turns back to the barghest as it starts talking again. 

_I am the un-denied. I am the eternally-sated. I am the bringer of sorrow and the giver of death_ , the barghest says. 

"Well that's rude." Peter says. Lydia throws him a look, because, _really_. The barghest is still looking at her though. 

_I was summoned, and four were offered to me. And yet I have none. I am denied and unsated_ , the dog says. 

Lydia frowns. She doesn't know what to say, she doesn't know how to act. The barghest doesn't require a response, it seems. 

_I chose this. I chose you. The barghest hunts and the banshee sings, we wield the gift of death between us_ , the dog says - practically waxes poetic. Lydia does not like the way this conversation is going. 

"Death is not _my_ gift." she says firmly. The dog snarls, causing Jackson to step in front of her. She realizes Peter is fidgeting uncomfortably, she thinks he wants to run away right about now. She sort of does too. But. 

"Why am I here?" Lydia settles for instead. The dog growls again, flame-red eyes sparkling. It seems to Lydia like the dog hesitates. 

_You are mine_ , it says finally. 

_And I am yours._

Oh. Well. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

If there was one thing more than fire that Derek hated, it was ash. The fire did the burning, the fire did the destroying - the fire killed - but the ash remained. It was the reminder of what had passed and what yet would. And, Derek thought, what would pass was just as bad as what had. He'd spent years getting his emotions over the fire under control. 

Anger. Anger was the most prevalent, of course it was, but Derek was not a raging psychopath, there were other things he was capable of, there was more to him than just distilled anger. Sadness followed anger just as quickly, and it was so much more painful. He and Laura had spent years just wasting away in New York. She recovered more quickly than he did, even with the burden of being an Alpha, but then, she was always quicker to understand a problem and soundly solve it. 

The emotion he always had the hardest time wrangling under control was fear. No one would ever believe him if he admitted it, but Derek Hale was constantly afraid. If anger and sadness were tornados, destroying everything in their paths, fear was a hurricane of epic proportions. There was no going back, there was no recovering from the fear. 

If it had happened once, it could happen again. Derek was fully aware of how perilous his situation was and always would be. When he first started his new pack, when he cornered Isaac in that grave, he had been so utterly afraid. Pack was family, and a dead family was better than a family that could die. Derek understood this to be a very impractical, very destructive train of thought, and yet he could not help but believe it. 

He was afraid for his new family. And he should have been. Erica and Boyd were gone, dead, like the rest of them. Isaac and Peter and Cora were the last remnants of his pack, and for two of them, there was so much trauma that they could never provide the sustenance he needed. They were bittersweet reminders of what he had and what he'd lost and what he'd failed at making again. Derek thought all of this, he considered all of these things. 

"Derek?" The voice startles him and he blinks from the ground where he is lying, eyes unseeing as he - well, _wallows_. Ash drifts lazily down inside the - his - house. It looks like the fire happened that _day_ , and though Derek knows that to be impossible, he wears his despair like a cloak nonetheless. 

The woman in question is a tall brunette, attractive, and smiling at him. 

"Who are you?" Derek asks gruffly. The girl only smiles placidly. But there is a shadow blooming from behind her, and her smile turns sad. 

"Oh the places you've been, the places you'll go." she says softly before fading entirely. The shadows deepen, and ash continues to rain. 

_You are mine_ , the barghest growls as it steps forth. Derek thinks of this house filled with ash and soot and remembers the sister that he lost, and the sister that he found. He remembers the family that was left to burn. He stands up. 

"I'm theirs." he says, gesturing to the broken house surrounding him. The barghest pauses at that, considers him, strolls closer. It seems to be deciding on something, and Derek takes a moment to take a long look at the creature. 

The barghest, usually swathed in shadows, steps into the low light of the burnt out house, it is a strange creature. Jagged, vaguely reptilian claws reach forward from its two front legs. The barghest's snout, while dog-like, covers row after row of needle-like teeth that are anything but. Bat-like ears swivel at every sound, while a lion's mane of midnight black fur unfurls from around its neck. 

A whip-like tail sways lazily behind the creature, slapping lightly at its back haunches which resemble a lion's more than a wolf's. It is a disconcerting sight, and it profoundly unsettles Derek, but he keeps his calm. 

Derek lets the red seep into his eyes. When he grins he wishes it is more feral, but he stands his ground. The eyes of the spirit in front of him match his, and for a moment, they just stare. The barghest snuffles suddenly. 

_You smell like death_ , it rumbles. Derek thinks if Stiles was beside him, he'd have some sort of snappy comeback prepared in Derek's defense. He isn't, and Derek certainly doesn't have one. He nods instead, but there is no pain in it, just acknowledgement. 

The barghest begins to stalk circles around Derek, and he finds himself turning to keep eye contact. 

_I was not always this_ , it says in its way. Derek is curious, but remains silent. 

_Most things start human, or human-like enough_ , it continues. Derek thinks it is the most the barghest has ever spoke. 

"You aren't now." he says, without judgment. The barghest nods, understanding the statement. 

_We are not so common, but I am not the only one_ , it growls. It changes then. Shadows ripple and thicken and the barghest is wrapped in them again. But not for good. When the shadows wane, a pale man is left in their wake. 

His hair is midnight black and he is lithe and long-limbed. His skin, which gleams like alabaster stone, is smooth and unburdened by any sort of body hair. He is wearing simple black pants and shirt, both appearing as though made of the shadows that linger around him. Derek thinks maybe they are. His eyes are fiery coals that gleam and glitter with their own light. There is something in his appearance that Derek finds oddly reminiscent. It feels like the pull of a memory unremembered, or a familiar smell. 

"And when lover you find, so too will the fruit of your labors bear brother." he says aloud. Derek is surprised at the musical lilt to the man's voice. It is a soothing voice, meant for comfort, and yet Derek is certain the man uses it for nothing of the sort. He wants to know what it means. The voice, the words, the man's appearance. 

"What are you?" he asks. The man smiles, thin-lipped and without humor. 

"Better would be to inquire as to what I was." he says with the same musical lilt. Derek wonders if he says everything as though it were the lyrics to some unknown song. 

"Okay," Derek says firmly. "What were you?" The man grins, and the teeth in his mouth are still sharpened points, but not nearly as deadly looking. 

"Once, long and longer before still, I snapped at the heels of forests and screamed my ecstasy into the sky itself." he says with an enigmatic smile. Derek, for all that he has seen, and all that he sees, glares before he can stop himself. 

This seems to make the man bemused, because he huffs - and it is such a sincerely human-like gesture that Derek feels utterly surreal - and considers something for a moment. 

"Root and dirt were my traveled path, the night was mine to love and hate. While years have wound away, and the perils of time have marred my mind, there is a name I can yet recall." the man says-sings. Derek moves to respond, or roll his eyes, or _twitch_ , he's not sure. But the man continues. 

"I was werewolf once, for it is from that flower that barghests bloom." Derek stills. There is ice in his chest and lead in his stomach. _So too will the fruit of your labors bear brother_. Derek startles as eyes blink into existence from the shadows, dozens upon dozens of flame-red points, _maybe alpha-red_ , he finds himself thinking. 

"Mages play with magics not meant for them, and thus do events unpredictable occur. Blood calls to blood, and darkness to matching dark." Derek is still immobile, but his mind is reeling. 

_Dude, Darth Vader is your dad_ , a Stiles-like voice says in his head, but he kills it. That's ridiculous. He isn't related to some strange celtic demon-spirit. His family isn't even Irish. The man smiles mockingly at him, like he can read his thoughts. Derek realizes that maybe he can. 

"The night is a harbinger of the unforseen." the man says. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

"So that thing wants to-." Peter makes a hand gesture that Lydia takes to mean _copulate vigorously_ , "with you." Peter is as crass as ever. Jackson, who has been walking quietly beside her, grunts but remains otherwise silent. 

They're walking through a seemingly unending forest. It sprang up after their conversation with the barghest. Which. Well. Lydia was still a bit out-of-sorts about it. _You are mine, and I am yours_ , it had said. Lydia doesn't know what to do with that. 

"This forest smells weird." Jackson says softly. Peter turns his head to look at him. 

"It smells like fire." Peter says seriously. Lydia frowns. It smells vaguely like death and decay to her, and she doesn't even need or have the whole werewolf thing going for her to notice. The entire forest is strange, they'd gone from standing in some white space to the forest in a blink of an eye. Lydia had started walking and hadn't stopped. Neither Jackson nor Peter asked her where she was going, or tried to stop her. 

She's not sure if she's the only one who has noticed, but, the forest is constantly changing in small, subtle ways. Trees are growing just fast enough to be noticeable, flowers are blooming and withering in just the slightest beyond-normal ways. 

There's a small rustle in the bushes and Jackson is in front of her in a way that has her rolling her eyes. Peter is _hmm'ing_ to himself. She steps closer despite **(or because of)** Jackson, when he tells her to stay back. 

She's crouched down and the bush is a rose bush suddenly, as though it hadn't just been a random shrub a moment ago. She peeks into the bush and that's when she can hear quiet sniffing, and little whimpers. 

There is a little puppy - no, a wolf pup - trapped in the bush. The thorns have snagged it and every time it squirms, the thorns push in tighter, the entire bush closing around the creature. 

"It's a wolf. A little baby wolf." she says to Peter and Jackson who kneel down on either side of her. She reaches out to put her hand into the bush and help the animal when Jackson places a hand on her arm. He doesn't grab her wrist, so she doesn't smack him in the head, but her look clearly says _I'm annoyed and it's because of you_ , so he rocks back and gives her some space. 

Her hand fits in the spaces between the bush easily, but the thorns are tricky and so she moves slowly, their sharp points scraping gently across her skin as she pushes deeper into the tangle of thorns and roses. 

Her hand has just reached the puppy when it senses her, it startles and lets out a single frightened whine, and it turns to her. 

Blue eyes. Not freezing, but not the cornflower blue of summer. This blue falls somewhere in between, this blue is pale and crisp, but not cold. This is the blue of a chilling beach day, or a small lake cradled between woods and hills . Lydia wonders when she began seeing color in this too-poetic way, she thinks it's entirely too silly, but she also finds that it distracts her from the insanities of her life that seem to keep popping up. 

Her fingers uncurl and scratch at the nape of the puppy's neck. It whimpers, but leans into her touch. She smiles and tugs playfully at its fur, caressing the miniature wolf and tracing its neck to the top of its head where she just lets herself pet. The puppy is calm enough now that she leans in further, attempts to scoot it out of the bush, but a thorn nicks her wrist and she resists the urge to yank her hand away. 

"Lydia." Jackson says, only it sounds more like _be careful_. Her head twitches in a responding nod that looks like _working on it_. 

There is blood on her wrist but she pays it no mind as she tugs the puppy slowly free of the bush. The puppy itself does not fight her, just the opposite. It is completely pliant to her touch as she works on freeing it from its thorny prison. It trusts her, believes that she won't hurt it. This thought creates such an overpowering emotion in her that she finds herself holding back tears, which, _ridiculous_. 

"You're a good boy." she whispers to the puppy. Her blood trickles down her fingers as she pulls the puppy fully from the bush. The puppy raises its head at her voice and she smiles at it. A bit of her blood gets on its nose and the entire world shifts suddenly around her. 

"Woah." Jackson says, but it's Peter's strangled gasp that draws her attention. The puppy is gone and an angry hiss whispers its way into her mind, though from where she can't tell. The scene in front of her leaves her feeling like her stomach is an empty pit. This is the Hale House. But not just that. 

This is the Hale House on fire. As if realizing it makes it more real, Lydia can suddenly hear screams and shouts and the sound of distant gunfire. The knowledge - feeling, really - that there are people dying in the distance should unsettle her. It should make her scream and run and never look back. 

It drives her forward, instead. It pulls her into the burning house itself. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

She's never seen Jackson - or Peter for that matter - run so fast, even if Peter did pause, because, _burning family home_. But they trusted her to lead them through the forest so far, so what's a burning building between friends, she thinks. 

They get to the porch just as she hits the door, and they make it into the house not a moment after. Lydia thinks they may have tried to grab her and drag her out of the building and back to safety, but that plan fizzles when they get past the door. 

The inside of the house is a lot less on fire than the outside, as in, _not at all_. The inside is already rotted and gutted and burnt. It looks a lot like when Lydia was there last, in fact. Not that she wants to recall that little bit of resurrection. 

Ash begins falling from the ceiling, swirling around them, and because that is the sense that these vision quests are beginning to make, Lydia doesn't even question it. She considers telling them to split up just to see if she can push some buttons and relieve some of her own stress, but a noise suddenly gets her attention. 

It's like a small whisper at first, but it pulls at her. "This way." she whispers. They creep quietly across the front hall and into a room that definitely used to be a kitchen. Lydia thinks this house needs to be demolished, like yesterday. 

"Your sister, Cora." she hears a voice say from an adjoining room. Jackson is still loose and ready for a fight, but Peter tenses at his niece's name. 

"You can save her?" a voice asks. It's a familiar voice, but it still takes her a moment to put a name to it - as if the house wasn't a big enough hint. Derek is speaking to someone. 

"No, but you can, if you join me." the man says, which causes Lydia to frown. Ultimatums from strange men never ended well, and - she throws a look in Peter's directions - in her experience lead to drugged drag queens and hallucinating high school students. She's pretty over strange men, if she's being honest. 

She has a mind to interrupt this little meeting herself, but she finds herself being pushed out of the way by Peter who stomps into the room. 

"There are other options. Dangerous ones - but - there are other options." he says. Lydia has never known Peter to be magnanimous, and so she is at a loss as to why he offers this information so freely. 

Lydia walks into the room, followed by Jackson. She sees the pale man and she glares at him. He looks at her and Jackson but the shadows are already wrapping back around him. The barghest that she is familiar with returns. There's a flash and the spirit leaps at Peter, claws outstretched. 

Peter, instead of fleeing or back pedaling as Lydia thought he would, takes two long strides and raises his fist, crashing it into the side of the barghest's head. The creature goes spinning and slams into the wall at the opposite end of the room. 

Peter's eyes are glowing red, and Lydia is confused because Peter is not an alpha. Peter is calm though, his breaths huffing out lightly. Derek stares at him, confused. Jackson is latched onto Lydia, tugging at her, trying to pull her from the room. 

_I am the bringer of death_ , the barghest says, but it sounds confused, confused and pissed. Peter positively beams. 

"But my death was already brought, no, I'm not your doing." Peter says, he grins and it is such an unhinged expression that Lydia steps backward into Jackson, causing them both to stumble. Peter looks up at her and meets her eyes, there is something she can't define in them, and it reminds her of the cunning and ruthless behind the sarcasm and offputting pleasantries. 

"I'm her doing." Peter says. His crimson eyes trail the room to catch Derek's own red stare and he trots over to stand at his nephew's side, ignoring the barghest entirely. 

"There is a way to save Cora. But it might cost you your status as an alpha. It's very similar to taking the pain from others, but it draws on the spark that makes you more - makes you alpha." he says seriously. Derek waits, just a beat, before responding. 

"I'll do whatever it takes." he responds. Peter smiles, nods. 

_He is a manipulator, a liar_ , the barghest growls. Derek looks at the dog. Lydia thinks, much like herself, he already knows this. 

"Better the devil I know." he says simply. Peter makes a loud sniffling sound, but doesn't otherwise react to the implied accusation. 

The barghest surprises them all and rushes Lydia, she screeches and Jackson leaps in front of her only to be batted away. The barghest snares her between its claws and slices her across the face. Derek is atop the barghest but it roars and launches him onto Jackson who had just begun to pick himself back up. 

Lydia twists away from the barghest and falls to the ground, slithering backwards in panic. The barghest snarls and rushes her, but Peter grabs it by the tail and flings it away from her. 

_Fools_ , it roars in frustration. Pools of darkness begin to open around the room and Peter gets sucked into one that opens behind him. Jackson and Derek reach her in the same moment, and she reaches a bloodied hand towards Derek, but he vanishes as soon as they touch. She has a moment to be startled, but Jackson grabs her and pulls her out of the way as more shadowy pits open. 

Lydia hears a scream that sounds like Allison suddenly, and without thinking, drags both her and Jackson into the shadows she thinks it comes from. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Derek is awake and standing before he even realizes where he is. 

"You're awake." Laura says tightly. He isn't looking at his sister though, he's striding out of the hospital room he's in, dressed only in an annoyingly flimsy hospital gown. Laura is following him closely, going on about things he knew and things he didn't. 

Lydia collapsed too. _Knew that_. 

Scott and Deaton, had decided to move Allison and Isaac, who were also affected, to Stiles'. They warded the house from the barghest somehow. _Didn't know that_. 

Isaac, from what Laura was able to gather, was the first to wake. _Didn't know_. 

Stiles has been by his side the whole time. _Not going to think about that._

Laura is just explaining the situation, telling him that he's been out of commission for over twelve hours and that Cora is so much worse, when Stiles, who is talking to Ms. McCall sees them. 

"Hey! You're not comatose. Are you okay?" Stiles' suspicious glare offsets the concern after his good health, he thinks. Ms. McCall and the boy fall into step beside Derek as he makes his way to his destination. 

"Where are you going?" Stiles asks, his concern growing, when Derek doesn't answer his first question. Derek frowns. 

"I'm going to save Cora." he says steadily. Stiles stutters to a stop, and Laura does too. Melissa doesn't even slow down. 

"How?" she asks pointedly. He bites back his gruff response of _I've got it under control_ , instead amending it to show her some more respect, though he's not really sure why. 

"Werewolves are capable of healing through touch." he settles for. She looks painfully unfamiliar with the entire subject of _werewolves_ , and Derek makes a point to talk to Scott about that when there's an opportunity. But as unaware as she is, she doesn't miss a beat. 

"Why haven't you done this before?" she asks suspiciously. Stiles, who has caught up with them nods quickly in agreement, warily trying to read between the lines in Derek's explanation. They're both speaking but Derek can only pay attention to the whispered "You're an idiot." that comes out of Laura who is suddenly in front of him, glaring. 

"I've got to save her." Derek grimaces awkwardly beneath her angry eyeballing. 

"What was it that mom always said?" she asks suddenly. Derek wants to repeat what their mother told him earlier. _Protect what is yours_. But he knows Laura isn't talking about that. What Laura is talking about is actually very amusingly nerdy. 

Talia Hale had been a fan of poetry, an avid lover of science fiction and fantasy books, and an even greater movie buff. Tween Derek had loved it, Teen Derek had been morbidly embarrassed by it, and Adult Derek settles for just recalling it fondly. 

He thinks his mother used fiction as an escape from the reality of their lives, but he also thinks she was not a woman to be easily defined. She had a way of paralelling the two, of finding ways to bind these myths to the realities of her life. They usually were mundane, slightly whimsical things twisted into life lessons and fed to her children for their own moral consumption. 

_A person's a person, no matter how small_

or 

_The course of true love never did run smooth_

And so when the entire family was in for one Friday night to watch a movie, this still held true. But it became something much more serious, much more urgent, and Derek remembers it quite clearly. 

_Derek is curled into his mother's side because, while he may be getting too old for this, he's tired and Moms and Alphas are both great for feeling like home and safe, especially when they're both._

 _His dad has chosen a Star Trek movie, his dad's a big fan of Star Trek. Derek thinks his dad finds the klingons appealingly werewolf-like. Or maybe he's just sort of lame, Derek's not sure, he never saw the allure of Star Trek, especially since there were no jedi or lightsabers or The Force._

 _

Derek's dad always laughed when Derek brought up Star Wars and asked him skeptically what the purpose of ewoks even was. Derek always conceded that, but made sure to tune out before he got a lecture on the importance of the 'Prime Directive'. 

Laura sneezes and it brings him back to the present, she's sitting on the other side of their mother while Cora flat out snores in their mom's lap. Derek tunes back into the movie, then, completely relaxed and fast on his way to falling asleep. 

"...It is logical. The needs of the many outweigh..." Spock begins. But Kirk finishes. 

"...the needs of the few..." Kirk is sad, but he gets it, Derek thinks. Derek's just sad that it looks like the vulcan is going to die, he envies them their control. 

Talia Hale sits up, Derek grumbles but she puts her fingers on his chin and turns his head so that her eyes meet his. 

"The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few." Derek frowns at her tone but nods nonetheless. It's not good enough for his mother. 

"Beta over Omega, but Pack over both, Derek. The Alpha serves the Pack." she is serious, so much more firm and severe than he expected that he wants to pull away. Her eyes are soft and understanding though, so he doesn't. He understands the lesson. 

"The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few." he says obediently. Talia smiles and then unpauses the movie. Derek hears Laura mumbling it beneath her breath, thinks he sees his father throw his mother a look of utter admiration, and he thinks maybe Star Trek could possibly be cooler than Star Wars in **some ways**.

_

It's Laura that brings him back to the present again. "You've got a pack, what will they do if they lose their alpha?" she asks. Derek shrugs. The needs of Cora come first, the rest can be figured out. The need of Derek not to be the last of them. These things are more important. These things outweigh anything else. 

They have reached Cora's room though. Derek is startled to find Peter there. He looks positively distraught. 

"I'm going to heal her." Derek says. Peter just shrugs and leans back into his chair. 

"I know. But do you know the cost?" his Uncle asks. Derek sits down and takes Cora's hand into his own. He feels and hears her heartbeat, and it's frail and skittish. 

"I don't care." he says as Stiles asks "What cost?". He ignores the boy though, and focuses on healing his sister. He draws poison from her veins, black viscous ropes weaving their way through his own veins and up his arms. He sees the thing that makes him an alpha in his mind, and it burns like a sun. The fire of it melts the tar-like poison and it dissipates. 

The fiery alphaness continues to heat, and Derek feels it. It is warm and comforting for a moment, but it does not stop. It becomes a burning ache in his chest, it's too hot, it's too much. The poison laps harder at it, tries to cover it and snuff it out. Derek whines but grits his teeth and turns it into a growl. His eyes are red, he can see it reflected in Stiles' eyes when he sits down in a chair he's pulled up opposite of Derek. 

Distantly he knows other people are saying things, but all Derek can concentrate on is the fact that Cora's wolf whimpers and Derek hears it and responds. His wolf tugs on his sister's and there is an almost audible sound when the flames and wolf liberate Cora from the muck within her body. 

But what was once a raging bonfire is now nearly all spent. Cora gasps awake and shudders, pulling herself out of bed and into his embrace. He stares at Stiles' startled, horrified face from over her shoulder and he sees his icy blue eyes glaring back at him in Stiles' own eyes. 

He sees relief in Peter and Laura's faces, he sees Melissa's expression of amazement as she checks Cora's vitals. He sees Stiles suddenly grinning so hard and wide at Cora it looks absolutely ridiculous. They needed something good, they needed this. 

"The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few." Derek offers accidentally, so lost in his reflection of those around him. Cora giggles weakly and Stiles' huff of surprised laughter is the only thing that precedes the boy as he flings himself at Derek, hugging both him and and his sister tightly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Voila, and there we are! Kudos appreciated! Points for catching the very obvious Buffy reference!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Welcome back." he says. She wants to frown, to dwell on what she's seen. The wolf, that wolf, she needs to figure it out. The wolf is...but it slips away from her. She can't hold onto it. So her priorities change. She'll find her answer later, she thinks.
> 
> "It's good to be back."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Eight! Hooray! I really liked this chapter, I find I enjoy skipping between perspectives, but most importantly, I got to introduce someone near and dear to my heart into this chapter! This is the first time I've had the perspectives of all four in the same chapter. Tell me what you think. I like the variation it gives me and the freedom, but is it too dizzying? Should there be more time focused on fewer people per chapter? I don't think this will become the new normal for chapters, because I like the thought of splitting people up to focus on smaller dynamics between fewer people. But still.

### Chapter Eight - To Possess The Heart Is To Claim The Soul 

##### (Or: This unresolved tension smells like sex.) 

When Isaac wakes again, Scott is no where to be found. He gets up and just breathes, taking in the scents around him. Without the distraction of fear or Scott **(Or fear _for_ Scott)** , Isaac is able to pluck out specific smells around him. 

This is Stiles' bedroom. He can smell the spastic kid all over the place. And if he thinks hard, he can remember the computer chair at the desk is the same one he slouched into the one time he was here previously. 

"Hey." A voice startles him from his thoughts and he looks up. Isaac blinks rapidly in surprise as he finds Boyd standing in front of him. 

"Boyd." he says, only a little at a loss. Boyd grins slightly at him. 

"Sup." he says, causing Isaac to smile way more brightly than he thought was normal. 

"You know, the usual." he replies. Boyd gives him a short nod, puts his hands in his pockets, and leans against the wall of Stiles' room. 

"Erica went to follow Scott around. She's sure he's your one true love." Boyd says. Isaac thinks it's meant to be a joke, but he doesn't even pretend to laugh, just looks awkward. 

"Did she?" Isaac asks quietly. Boyd is suddenly the very definition of unimpressed. 

"Is he?" Boyd retorts. Isaac swallows. This conversation is strange and random and he does not want it, not in the least. 

"Uhh..." Isaac says. Boyd pushes off the wall but makes no further movement. He studies Isaac for a moment. 

"I never noticed. After you guys rescued me I-" there is something Boyd is trying to say here, but Isaac can't quite understand the purpose of it or the intent behind it. He decides to let Boyd continue. "I- well, I never really paid any attention to you. You were alone and then I came back, and you were still alone." Boyd takes a deep breath and finishes what he started. "I'm sorry." 

Isaac is a little floored, he never thought about it like that. Boyd was distant after he came back, that was for sure, but, it was normal - things had happened, _bad_ things. _Erica_. He wants to tell this to Boyd, to relieve him of his guilt, but before he can, Erica comes flouncing in, as if summoned by the very thought of her. 

She smiles hesitantly at Boyd and then turns to Isaac. "Scott's coming back up." she says eagerly. She stops to think, as if she's forgotten something. "Derek is awake, and that girl, Cora-" she starts, but Boyd interrupts her. 

"His sister." he interjects softly. She frowns, raising her eyebrows at him. "His sister." she repeats, rolling her eyes as she goes. 

"They're coming here. Cora is healed, Derek woke up and healed her, but.." and she stops, gives Isaac a strange look, and sighs. Isaac thinks the sigh sounds sympathetic. A pang of anxiety unfurls itself from within him. He wants to ask her what she knows, what she's not telling him, but Scott enters the room as the words form on his tongue. 

"Hey." Isaac says automatically. Scott smiles brightly at him and moves to sit beside him. 

"How are you feeling?" he asks, and Isaac gives it some honest thought. 

"Okay," he says. "I feel okay." he gives Scott a reassuring smile and Scott heaves a sigh of relief before plopping down to lay beside Isaac on the bed. Erica makes an excited noise and Isaac sees Boyd roll his eyes, but they otherwise stay silent. Isaac catches the smirk on Boyd's lips though, don't think he doesn't. 

"We moved Lydia here. Her and Allison are still out of it." Scott's voice sounds so strange that it takes Isaac a moment to realize why. 

Scott is worried about Allison - and he _should be_ , but - but Isaac finds himself greedy for Scott's attention. It's a new feeling and Isaac finds it extremely uncomfortable. He leans back to lay down beside Scott, their arms touching as they run parallel to each other. 

"How long has it been?" Isaac asks quietly. Scott sighs and stares vacantly at the ceiling. 

"Seventeen hours." he says. Isaac frowns and grasps at something - _anything_ \- that he can say to put Scott at ease. 

"They can take care of themselves." he says. And they can. He remembers the hand in his dream. He remembers how the voice sounded like Lydia's. They can take care of themselves. They will be just fine. He hopes. 

Scott is silent and unmoved, and so Isaac takes a chance and reaches down to grab Scott's hand. He squeezes it comfortingly a couple times before laying their hands back down between them. Scott sighs but it's not entirely a broken sound. Isaac refuses to think about the fact that Scott has not pulled his hand away. 

"They can take care of themselves." Scott repeats. Isaac thinks he even believes it a little. It's enough for now. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

As Allison is running through a dark forest she has a moment to reflect on how very stereotypically Hollywood it is, even if she easily hops over roots instead of falling flat on her face, or evades branches so that they don't illogically tear off her shirt. 

She's being chased by her father. She's also wolfed out. It was jarring to feel her face change, her teeth elongate, her brow ripple. She always wondered what it was like, before. 

She doesn't like it very much. 

An arrow slams into the tree next to her and she curses as she trips over her own feet in an attempt to flinch away from it, finally completing the cliche. She leaps to her feet and dashes off, her father now much closer. She can hear the huff of his breath and the crunch of leaves beneath his boots. 

"Allison!" he calls, causing her to grit her teeth. This is obviously not her father, she is most definitely not a werewolf. After she watched her mother kill herself, her father - or that version of him - turned to her and told her it was her fault. Moonlight had broken through the window then, and when it touched her, she'd changed. Her father had screamed at her again and chased her from the house. 

And where she had been in her driveway, she was now in the forest. The forest itself was strange, she could hear screams now and again, and she swore she kept seeing her aunt's face. 

"Why are you running?" Kate Argent was suddenly right next to her. Allison growls as she trips again, falling quite literally on her face. She rolls so that she can look at her aunt. 

"Why aren't you hunting me with him?" Allison growls, annoyed. Her aunt just looks at her like she is an idiot. 

"You're not really a werewolf, Allison. I may be psychotic, but I was never insane." Kate says dissmissively. Allison shrugs, she wasn't actually sure it would matter to Kate. 

"You should stand your ground. You should kill him." Kate says. Allison wants to protest at that, remind Kate that he's her _father_ , but Kate sees it coming and just rolls her eyes as if to say _no he isn't, idiot_. 

An arrow slices through the air and pins her arm to a tree. It hurts. A lot. Allison can't even scream before Kate has already pulled it free from her arm and the tree both. 

"Don't be stupid." Kate says. So Allison decides not to be stupid. She grabs the arrow from her aunt's hands and runs at her father. He sees her coming and he lets loose another arrow before shedding the bow for a gun. Allison dodges the arrow, but her pace is off and her father is already cocking the gun. 

He fires and she stumbles left, barely dodging the bullet. He fires again and she purposely trips into a roll, the bullet cutting the air right above her. She pops back up and flings the arrow at him as he shoots her, hitting her in the leg. She cries out, but so does he, the arrow caught in his gut. 

She breaks into an awkward, limping run as she tries to close the distance between them but he is able to pull off another shot before she gets to him. It slams into her shoulder and she snarls, forgetting she isn't actually a werewolf. 

"Monster. You're a monster." he says, and Allison laughs. Her father isn't one to get chatty during a hunt, this is a pale imitation indeed. She watches her clawed hand come up and slash him across his face. She watches her leg snap out and kick him into a tree. 

The tree vanishes and Allison doesn't think that's fair but her dad disappears too, and so she calls it a draw. The familiar heaviness in the atmosphere reappears as the barghest blooms from the shadows before her. She realizes she isn't a werewolf anymore. That's good, at least. 

_Your allies attempt to thwart me_ , it says. It multiplies then, and five of the creatures now surround her. Awkward. Kate is suddenly beside her. 

"I've got you, girl." she says confidently. The barghest sneers at the interaction. One of the barghests winks out of existence and the other four look startled. There's a tearing sound and shadows erupt from the space that formerly held the creature. Peter Hale rips himself from the shadows and stumbles forward. 

"That trick's tougher than it looks." he mumbles absently as he dusts himself off. Kate's gasp sounds so strangled Allison wonders if she's even breathing before remembering that she doesn't actually have to. Peter looks up at the sound and his eyes narrow into a glare. 

"You." Kate says, causing him to smirk, though he seems far from amused. 

"Me." he says. Allison realizes this is suddenly a pissing contest. She sighs. 

"Them." she adds pointedly, before literally pointing to the four remaining barghests. Kate and Peter come back to themselves and tighten into an actual group, moving to face the four surrounding barghests. 

_Die_ , the four say as one. 

A barghest flings itself at Allison and she punches it. It laughs and crushes her into the ground beneath its body. She screams as its claws rip into her sides. As quick as it pinned her, it is pushed off, and Allison is surprised. Kate seems surprised too. The barghest she pushed flew an unexpected distance from the hit. 

"Yeah, fun fact. Murderous spirits can't really fuck with dead people." Peter remarks as he punches a barghest in the gut. The creature whines loudly, but is quickly back atop Peter, joined by one of the others. 

The one Kate pushed off Allison has returned, accompanied by the fourth. They launch themselves at Kate who has positioned herself in front of Allison. Allison stumbles backwards as Peter and Kate both battle with their respective barghests. 

A strange sort of _pop_ is the only warning Allison gets before a hand grips her and spins her around. It is a pale man with fiery eyes and silk black hair. 

"For love and for pain do we linger upon the mortal plane." he says mysteriously. Allison frowns, wants to ask what, but the man grabs her by the neck and lifts her up, intent on choking her to death. She screams as the man's other hand bites at her side, buckling the bones in her hip. He squeezes the hand holding her neck and her scream cuts off. 

She thinks this might be it, it might actually be all she wrote, so to speak. She frowns though. She thinks she could at least try a little harder. Her hands are suddenly scrabbling at the man, clawing his arms as her legs lash out in feeble attempts at kicks. 

She sees his burning eyes and they remind her so much of Peter's, so much like every damned alpha in the alpha pack that constantly terrorizes them that she burns a little bit herself. Her fingers flex with want and there may be a hand crushing her windpipe but Allison reaches up, angles her thumb, and decides to do something about that damned eye. So she gouges it out. 

She remembers the saying about eyes being the windows to the soul. She thinks she's stupid for not taking such phrases more literally, her dad has told her time and time again that all fact comes from legend comes from myth. That the world has forgotten, but that it remembers through superstition and other cultural quirks. 

She's not really surprised when the man lets her go. She does have a thumb in his eye, after all. She is sort of surprised when Lydia and _Jackson, of all people_ , appear out of a pool of shadows off to the side. 

She is utterly shocked when a shriek breaks the air and sends everyone to their knees. A visible ripple surrounds the man, creeping up her arm. Peter reaches her a second before the ripple completely overtakes her and he latches onto her wrist with a vice grip. The ripple surrounds her entirely and she forgets everything else. 

It's like she's somewhere else except she isn't. There are two images laid across her eyes. She sees Peter, clutched to her wrist, seizing, his eyes rolled back into his head as he writhes uncontrollably next to her. 

She sees Lydia and Jackson running towards her, only to be stopped by one of the barghests. 

She sees Kate, enraged, fighting three barghests in her attempt to reach her, and somehow not exactly losing. Allison thinks she can't keep it up for long, but for now, Kate Argent is holding her own. 

It's the _other_ things she sees atop these things that are confusing her, driving her to the edge. It's as though they're flashes from a camera, the flash is dizzying, and it takes her a moment to get her bearings, but there is clearly an image after the flash. 

_a man dies_

_a man lives_

_a man is not a man_

_wolves howl at the moon_

_running through forests_

_the moon is red_

_the shadows are cold but home_

_cold is home_

_death_  
 _death_  
 _death_

And then suddenly the flashes are familiar. She sees herself, Lydia, Isaac, and Derek in the warehouse. Allison sees Isaac go to cover her with himself, she sees Lydia push Derek to the ground. Suddenly she is right on top of them - she has to remind herself that she is one of 'them' - and they scream. Small tears open in the air around them but she pays no heed to it. 

She hisses when she realizes one of the girls is a banshee, and again when she realizes the alpha is part of the old bloodline of wolves, a branch of the same. The same. Still. Two sacrifices to take. The dark haired girl and the light haired boy. They will sate her. 

She launches herself at them and thinks that their souls will taste sweet, like the memory of cake. And then one of the tears beside them widens and a wolf with glowing red eyes trots out from it. It stands in front of the children and tells her _no_. 

But she is the barghest and she will take what she wishes, she is beyond Alpha, Beta, and Omega. No pack can stand in her way. 

_No_ , the wolf tells her again. She roars and slashes at the wolf, but it leaps out of the way and its lips curl back in silent snarl. The wolf seamlessly transforms into a dark haired woman with burning eyes. She understands then. This wolf is part of the old blood, but more than that, this wolf is- 

There is a tingling at her wrist and Allison is pulled backwards, her thumb slips from the man's eye with a slick plop as Peter tugs her free, and the second layer of images vanish with a near audible hiss. She shakes her head because she is herself again, and the confusion of being two different things leaves her. 

The pale man is screaming and clutching at his face. Allison thinks that whatever he drew them into is fading because the sky of this place unravels faster than she can follow. 

With a dizzying lurch, her surroundings ebb away completely. When she opens her eyes, her dad is looking at her. His smile is so charming and bright and _him_ that Allison returns it without even thinking about it. 

"Welcome back." he says. She wants to frown, to dwell on what she's seen. The wolf, that wolf, she needs to figure it out. The wolf is...but it slips away from her. She can't hold onto it. So her priorities change. She'll find her answer later, she thinks. 

"It's good to be back." 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

"Allison's awake." Stiles says to Scott from the frame of his bedroom door. Lydia has followed him up here to tell Scott who had been sitting with Isaac, and, as much as Lydia is happy that her friend has returned to the land of the waking - is in fact ecstatic - that doesn't keep her from noticing the way Isaac, who is sitting on the edge of Stiles' bed next to Scott glances sharply at the other boy before glancing away with a blush. 

Lydia's original plan had been to go tell Scott with Stiles, and then go with them to see Allison, to figure out _what the hell_ that was, because they (Allison, Isaac, Derek, herself) were all there. And Jackson, apparently, which, that still was making the sense that wasn't, to Lydia. 

After she woke up, she'd called Jackson right away. It turns out he had been there with her _for real_ , and Lydia isn't sure how she feels about that. Her English teacher tried to kill her, she's dating an alpha werewolf bent on killing her friends, and her ex-boyfriend ex-lizard current-werewolf who lives in London just shared a dream with her. 

This of course is not even touching upon the fact that Dead Peter has been following her around and slipping into her dreams **(again)** , for over a day and a half now, though he is blissfully absent at the moment. 

So. She isn't really sure how she feels about anything. At all. 

The only thing Lydia is sure of is that distracting herself by watching Isaac stare awkwardly at the wall to the right of Scott's head might just be the last thing keeping her sane. Lydia Martin can deal with _teenage romance_. She is an old pro in this regard. 

So she decides her new plan will be sitting with Isaac while Scott and Stiles go to speak to Allison. Scott has already stood up, and he's looking at Isaac and Lydia is suddenly aware of the fact that the thing between those two isn't as one-sided as she originally thought. 

"You gonna be-" Scott starts, but Isaac isn't hearing any of it. Lydia thinks he's made it this far bottling up his emotions and sanding down his rough edges - why stop now? 

"I'll be - I'm fine." Isaac says hurriedly. Scott, for all of his, and Lydia can't really find an adequate word for this, she's tried - for all of his _Scottness_ , gets the meaning behind Isaac's gruffness. How can someone be so dumb and so smart at the same time? It boggles Lydia's mind. 

Stiles clears his throat uncomfortably and Lydia forces herself not to glare at him. Isaac and Scott were clearly having some sort of a moment. But the moment is shattered into a thousand pieces, and it looks exactly like the face Isaac makes in the second before he forces himself to slip on one of his many masks. Scott sighs, nods to himself, and gets up. They start to walk down the hall towards the guest room that Allison is occupying when Stiles turns around and looks at her. 

His eyebrow is quirked, and so is hers. They have a quick, semi-sarcastic, entirely absurd conversation with their eyebrows alone, and when Lydia jerks her head at Stiles' bedroom door he looks away and nods discreetly, understanding. 

Scott never even caught a hint of the silent discussion Stiles and she just had. _So dumb_. She shakes her head and firms her shoulders and waltzes into Stiles' bedroom. Isaac looks suspiciously at her, but stays silent. He sprawls out lazily and rests his cheek on the bed as he watches her sit regally in Stiles' computer chair. 

It's not a throne, but Lydia can pretend. This is her mask, she knows, the pompous bitch, the self-appointed royalty. It's easy though, and if Isaac is going to play the nonchalant bad boy, she's going to raise him one frigid ice queen. She considers waiting him out, but thinks better of it. Nothing will be accomplished if they both just sit here and glare at each other until Stiles or Scott or worse, _Derek_ walks in. 

"You're not subtle." she says at last. He frowns, his cheek scrunching into the bed beneath him. He tilts his head so that his chin is pillowed on his arms as they come to rest folded in front of him. 

"Neither are you, apparently." he's bemused, but he at least gets where this conversation is going, thankfully. Lydia can work with this. 

"I've never seen him with a boy." Lydia leaves the implied _in that way_ , unspoken between them. Isaac sighs quietly, brushing his hair out of his eyes and frowning thoughtfully. 

"Neither have I." he says, and his voice is so quiet and uncertain that Lydia can't be blamed if her ice queen melts a little. 

"That doesn't mean anything though. Scott could-" Lydia realizes she's said the wrong thing when his eyes narrow and his fingers curl into the sheets on Stiles' bed. 

"I don't need your pity." he says, but it's Lydia's turn to glare. 

"It's a good thing you don't have it then. I'm simply saying Scott probably knows what you want better than he knows what he wants." Isaac blinks, a little confused, a lot alarmed and Lydia groans and just barely refrains from pinching her nose in frustration. 

"Not like that - I'm just saying - I'm saying he isn't very introspective. He wants everyone to be happy and comfortable. I don't think, I don't think he knows you-" and she waves her hands in the air at this, trying to encompass the feelings she's failing at talking about. Isaac's shoulders, tensed from her previous statement, relax ever so slightly. 

"I don't know what to do." he says suddenly. He looks to her left and sneers a little bit, and Lydia thinks that they aren't as alone as she had thought. She thinks she's an idiot for assuming that just because she didn't have her personal ghost that Isaac didn't have his. 

"Make a move." Isaac is so startled by her suggestion that he sits up, literally scoots himself backwards across Stiles' bed and eyes her, looking for any sign of sarcasm or vindictiveness. She stares at him and lets him hear her slow, sure, heartbeat. The face he makes has her thinking he's suddenly considering it. 

"Make a move." he repeats softly, mulling the thought over in his head. She stands then, walks - not saunters - over to the bed and sits beside him. She puts a hand on his shoulder and he looks at her. His eyes warm a little, and he puts a hand over hers. 

"Thank you." he says sincerely. "I know you saved me in there." he says unexpectedly. Lydia's brows knit together in confusion and her hands fall to her lap as she thinks about what he could mean. Isaac blushes a little and scratches the back of his neck self-consciously. 

_"Good boy."_ he says as though he's repeating something as he looks at her with wide blue eyes. She blinks before her mind jumps back to the wolf in the rosebush, and between his blue eyes - _crisp, like a chilling beach day_ , her mind supplies - and the way his hand scratches at his own neck like hers did, she is surprised she didn't get it sooner. 

"Oh." she says quietly. He gives her a shy smile, his mask suddenly no where to be seen. She doesn't want to make this awkward so she forges ahead. 

"Thank you for saving us in the warehouse." she says, because he did. They were stupid to go in alone at first, she doesn't even know what they were thinking. He gives her an _awwh shucks_ grin and shrugs his shoulders. 

"I heard you tried to slap our English teacher." he says with a laugh. She grins, because she really was going to. And, _what was she thinking_. 

"I heard you stopped Allison from killing Peter." she says, her tone laced with accusation. His grin widens, looks only slightly shark-like. 

"Sorry." But the atmosphere lacks any sort of tension, and Lydia marvels at it. She was never one to make friends easily. Minions maybe, but not friends. They fall into an easy, way too comfortable silence as they both drift off, swept away in a sea of their own thoughts. 

Eventually they end up shoulder to shoulder, laying down side by side on Stiles' bed. 

"I can't stop seeing Erica and Boyd." Isaac says quietly, after a time. Lydia nods, remembers that Isaac and Erica were close, that she was bitten so soon after he was. She wonders if she's supposed to talk about Peter now, and how much she _doesn't_ want to do that. She's relieved when he continues. 

"I feel like I'm going crazy. I'm seeing dead people, and then there are sentient dogs made of living shadow and - I, this isn't - I'm more of a rom-com kind of guy honestly, I'd _never_ watch this movie." Lydia laughs lightly, pleasantly surprised by the joke, but even more because _she understands completely_. 

"Do you see Erica and Boyd right now?" she asks curiously. She can feel the pillows move as Isaac nods his head affirmatively. 

"Erica's sitting on the computer chair talking about how weird it is that I'm laying in bed with you, _the_ Lydia Martin." and Lydia can hear the emphasis on the 'the' and wonders if she should feel bad. She doesn't think Isaac does though, so she lets the thought drop. 

"Boyd though, he's standing by the window. He isn't saything anything, you know Boyd," Isaac says comfortably before tensing, remembering that Boyd's death was so recent, so maddening. He makes an unhappy, broken sound but is snorting out an only slightly bitter laugh a second later. 

"He says I'm being melodramatic, and if I ever want to get in your pants, I probably shouldn't cry in front of you." Lydia rolls her eyes. 

"This isn't freshman year." she says cattily as she shoots him a glance. He's looking at her, his eyes cast sideways to meet her own stare. He smiles boyishly. 

"My bike still has a chain anyway." Lydia can't help the completely _ridiculous_ laugh that works its way up from her throat and out of her mouth, and she most certainly can't be blamed for the pillow that she flings at Isaac's head. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Derek was a bit of a grumpy grumpster. In the words of Stiles, at least. Not for the last time, Derek wondered where he got his vocabulary from. 

"You should be inside." Cora says from the porch of the Stilinski house. Derek frowns, turns to her and lets his blue beta eyes stare at her. 

"Oh my god," she says. She literally slaps her hand to her forehead. "You're _moping_." 

Derek considers glaring at her, but realizes that would be playing right into her hands. She walks slowly down to stand next to him and just _sighs_. It's a big sigh, a sigh worth a thousand words, Derek thinks. Maybe a million. He finds it's exactly how he feels. 

He and Cora glance up to the left as a figure slips around the corner and into their view. 

"You should be inside." Peter says. Derek is the one sighing this time, but Cora only nods in agreement - the traitor. 

"What did Deaton and Scott do anyway, to protect this house?" Cora asks curiously. 

"Well," Peter starts, and the drawl in his voice is so thick Derek wants to vomit. "It probably included ice baths, mountain ash, and the power of _imagination_." Peter is so smarmy that Derek wonders how he doesn't get on his own nerves. 

"Okay." Cora says. She turns to Derek, at that. "What did Deaton and Scott do anyway?" 

Derek's grin is tight but sincere. "They did use mountain ash, but something else too, some flower. Deaton did a ritual, blocking the dead or those connected to death from entering the house." 

"But _Lydia_. And Isaac mentioned seeing Erica and Boyd, and I know for a fact you've seen Laura in there." Derek ignores the tremor in Cora's voice when she mentions Boyd or Laura, purposefully ignores the way Peter scratches his head in a _my bad_ kind of way, something that happens every time the latter is brought up. 

"The power of _imagination_." Peter reminds. But Derek rolls his eyes. 

"It's all about intent." he clarifies for Cora, semi-glaring at Peter. Cora makes a thoughtful sound, but Derek knows these answers are vague and unhelpful and worthless. He hates that they have to trust Deaton so much, he hates that Scott doesn't even think to question it. 

"So how's beta life?" Peter asks. Derek closes his eyes, embarrassed and annoyed and filled with self-loathing. It's par for the course though, he thinks. 

"I don't remember you being this big of a jerk before the fire." Cora says for him. 

"You were like two." Peter says with a grin. Cora huffs. 

"Eleven." she corrects. Peter just shrugs. There's a scent on the wind suddenly, and Derek tenses. Peter and Cora smell it too. 

"What is it?" Cora asks quietly. 

"Death." Derek answers. Peter shakes his head though. 

"Not death. Our death." he says. Cora eyes him, but stays silent. 

"Let's go inside." Derek says. But Cora surges forward, running towards the fence suddenly. 

"Wait!" Derek yells after her. "Cora!" He makes to move forward but Peter is in front of him suddenly and physically shoves him back. 

"Stay." Peter says. His tone is dubious, uncertain if Derek will listen or not. When Derek makes no move to follow, Peter nods, satisfied, and dashes off after Cora. 

There are too many moments between when Peter and Cora run off and when they return, Derek is tense and twitchy for all of them. Eventually, the two do return. Between them they are holding someone up. 

"Morrell." Derek says. She looks beat up. Her body is peppered with wounds and her breath is ragged. 

"Hale." her voice cracks and she seems exhausted. 

"What happened to you?" Derek asks. There's a clap of thunder, and the sky has darkened slightly. Derek thinks that's ominous. Ms. Morrell seems to agree. 

"Inside." she says. So they go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> She'll always be Kendra to me, good golly. Anyway, thanks for reading, much appreciated! Kudos and comments appreciated as always! When I first started this story, I intended a sort of one-shot type Erica/Isaac confab, but I learned two things. One, the Isaac I write was not up to par with the Isaac I wanted to read (Him being my fave among faves, practically up there with Faith from Buffy and Fred/Illyria from Angel, and Six from Battlestar Galactica, and basically every character in Game of Thrones...you see where I'm going here.) Secondly, all of these characters have so much more to them, so I really wanted to get into it, and it's been _so_ fun so far. I really have no idea how much longer this story is going to be, but I have an ending in mind, and it's sort of **radical** (sorry not sorry?), and that being said, it'll take a bit to get to, and I've never been a fan of stories that get messily and speedily wrapped up. So I'm expecting this to be a 20 chapter story, at least. Which. I'm not sure if that's good or bad haha. 
> 
> Anyway thanks for reading!


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